Into the West
by elecktrum
Summary: A year after the Battle of Beruna, a horrible curse Jadis set upon Edmund is awoken and Peter must journey into the Western Wild in order to save him
1. Prologue: In the Company of Horses

Into the West

**Into the West**

by Elecktrum

author's note: by posting this I'll be doing something I've never done before, namely posting chapters to a story before it's complete and edited and gathering dust on my hard drive. By doing this I'm almost forcing myself to keep writing for there are few things I dislike more than a story that's been abandoned. In true epic fashion, I've decided to start this story in the middle, jump to the beginning, and then pick up where the ends meet to finish. I may update and revise each chapter as I go along, so things might change a bit in the future. I apologize in advance for any flaws or shortcomings with the story. I write purely for my own amusement and I'm thankful when other people enjoy what I've created. There's not much intrigue in this tale, just the story of a young knight who adventures out on a quest to save someone he loves.

The title of this story is derived not only from the fact that the Garden that Peter seeks lies deep in the Western Wilds, but also from the Irish myth of Tir na nOg, the enchanted Land of Eternal Youth that lay far to the west. I thought it was fitting since the apple tree in the Garden will grant immortality.

**Prologue: In the Company of Horses**

They stood around me in a wide circle, the whole of their noble race, more than fifty in all by rough count, of every size and age and color. Some of them were curious, some disinterested, a handful were clearly hostile, though if that hostility was directed at me for simply being there or for the notion that I rode a Horse I could not say yet.

Unfortunately their leader was the most hostile of the lot. Solid black from nose to wingtip to tail save for one white sock, Pennon, Lord of the Winged Horses, tossed his head and pawed the ground in aggravation. Beside me, Phillip huffed, determined to be unimpressed even though these magnificent horses were among the most beautiful and imposing things I had ever seen.

"I thank you for consenting to see me, Lord Pennon," I said, maintaining my dignity despite my ragged state. In truth he had done no such thing and since noon his herd had kept us from stepping another foot further west, but I was in no mood or position to argue over such trifles. "We seek only leave to pass through your land unmolested."

Pennon fixed me with an aggressive eye. "By what charge do you even come so far from the land of men? And what arrogance is this that you should harness and ride a Talking Horse as though he were your slave?"

Phillip bristled, but at my touch on his neck he calmed and said nothing. "I have been charged by Aslan, Son of the Emperor-Over-Sea, to seek the Garden in the West." The Winged Horses stirred, recognizing the Lion's name, and well they should. "He commanded I return with an apple from the tree that grows in the center of the garden. This Horse, Phillip Bwinny-hra, willingly consented to carry me here. He is harnessed by choice and by his personal preference."

"We are the guardians of that garden, Son of Adam," Pennon said, his tone threatening. He stepped forward a few paces, looking me over with contempt. "Why should we allow you to go on?"

"Guarding it?" I asked. "From what? Would you bar me from carrying out a quest given me by Aslan himself?"

"Prove it!"

"Liars don't invoke Aslan's name as I have done without fear of reprisal."

The black Horse snorted. "You don't know what you're asking."

"On the contrary," I snapped. "I know exactly what I want and what I must do."

As sharply as I had spoken, Pennon demanded, "And what is that, Human?"

"I want to save my brother's life. And I will do so," I vowed anew, my voice rising strongly as my indignation grew, "by returning to Narnia and Aslan with an apple from the Garden in the West."

Not exactly impressed by my bravado, the Winged Horse snorted. "You'll never reach the Garden."

"I've made it this far. I'll make it to the Garden."

"Who are you, Son of Adam?"

I faced him squarely. "I'm Peter, High King of Narnia. In the name of Aslan and his great father, I command you to let us pass."

I don't know if invoking Aslan in such a way was a good or bad thing, because Pennon glared and bared his teeth. "Go on your way, High King," he spat. "You will not reach the Garden and we will not help you. Begone, O Man."

He turned and the Winged Horses went with him, most willingly, some hesitantly, only one reluctantly. Pennon's daughter Rhye had listened with growing disappointment to her sire's words, her whole demeanor slowly drooping as he voiced his decision. With a great rush of wings and stirring up of dust the Winged Horses took running starts and launched into the air. Rhye was the last to leave, casting us both a long and sorry look before she followed the others, the only gleaming speck amongst the duller Horses.

"I had expected better from Horses so noble," Phillip grumbled.

I was equally disappointed and I leaned against him as I watched the Winged Horses vanish towards the setting sun and their homes in the cliffs. "They're still beautiful to see," I had to admit sadly.

"I no longer think so."

I smiled and closed my eyes for a moment, remembering Aslan and letting his love replace the despair threatening to overcome me. It was difficult not to break down and give in to my feelings right then. It was a minute or more before I drew a deep breath and stepped back.

"A few more miles before dark?" I asked, hoping to make up some lost time and that I'd spot some game on the way. I had not had meat in several days and I was beginning to feel the effects of so unbalanced a diet.

"Yes," he agreed. "I want to be far away from this place and these unkempt nags."

He was disappointed for Edmund's sake, I knew, just as I was. They had condemned my brother to that many more days of Jadis's cruel enchantment and I found it difficult to forgive them.

I shot a hare just at sundown and I simply dressed it, cleaned up, and got right back onto Phillip. Through the cool, green valley we made our path. I barely saw the spectacular setting any more: mighty, snow-capped mountains reaching into the clear sky, thick with forests and gleaming in the setting sun above the tree line. Streams and waterfalls of ice-cold water from melting glaciers worked their way downwards to join the Great River. We rode past nightfall, ever westward, following the river to its source, keeping the Spear Head, Narnia's brilliant northern star, on our right as we searched for the Garden wherein grew my brother's deliverance.

Finally it was too dark to go on safely and by moonlight I belatedly made camp in a small grove of trees along the river. Phillip ate grass as I made a fire and roasted the hare. I had to make an effort not to devour it all, but to leave enough for the morning. It was late, far later than we were usually up, but I knew I wouldn't sleep well. I had dared to hope the Winged Horses might help. After all, according to Narnia's history, Fledge, father of all the Winged Horses, had flown the whole distance from Narnia to the Garden in less than two days for the exact same reason I was now here. We had been traveling the same route Fledge had taken over land and water for almost two months. What made them so hostile? Why had they isolated themselves in this wilderness?

Phillip laid down close to the fire ring and I leaned against him for warmth. These mountains were much cooler than the lowlands to the east.

"We'll get there," I promised.

"I know," he said softly, and I felt tears well up in my eyes at his devotion, proof that I was as exhausted as I suspected. I was about to say more when a twig snapped. I scrambled for Rhindon as Phillip surged to his feet.

"Who goes?" I called into the darkness.

I heard light footsteps and then a high-pitched voice said, "'Tis I, King Peter. 'Tis Rhye. I come alone. I mean you and Phillip no harm."

I sighed, lowering my sword and the mare stepped forward until we could see her. Lovely Rhye, all silver and gold in the firelight, eager and curious and the only glint of kindness we had encountered since leaving Narnia.

"Be welcome, Rhye," I said, sheathing Rhindon again. I stepped over to her and touched her soft nose. "What brings you here?"

"My sire," she said simply.

"Pennon?" I wondered. "He sent you?"

"Only by refusing to help you."

"Rhye, I can't let you get in trouble with him over this."

She stretched her neck out and shook her head and mane, a Horse's equivalent of scorn. "I choose to do this. He is right, King Peter. You won't make it to the Garden. The valley is ringed by glaciers and far too dangerous to walk over. You can only get there by flying over the last mountain."

I smiled. "I have to try. _We_ have to try."

She ducked her head and let out a small whinny. "No, King Peter, you must succeed, and so at dawn I will take you to the Garden myself." That said, she walked past me and settled down by the fire not far from where Phillip had lain moments ago, making a great show of arranging her wings just so. I looked at Phillip, who seemed as surprised as I was, then at Rhye.

"Why would you do this?" asked Phillip, voicing the question I couldn't bring myself to ask.

The Winged Horse stared at the fire, fascinated. "It's warm and bright. It showed up well in the darkness. What is it?"

"Fire. It is a mighty tool, but dangerous. Be cautious around it."

"It's very pretty." She leaned her nose towards the small blaze. "It smells nice. I do this because my people are from Narnia, making you, King Peter, our king. Even though we have removed ourselves from that land, we cannot turn our back on the word of Aslan. Besides," she seemed to shrug her wings, "what matters one apple?"

I was amazed at her logic. "Why is your sire so against me going there?"

"Because He distrusts anyone and anything that is not a Winged Horse. My people fled Narnia long ago because there were men from the south that tried to exploit and enslave us and treat us like dumb beasts. Though that was long ago and naught to do with kings, my sire refuses to set aside that grudge. We are not as mighty as we once were, so far removed from Narnia. Besides, you would go where he has never been allowed. He has never heard Aslan's voice, but I'm not certain if he knows what to listen for."

"And you've heard Aslan?" Phillip wondered. He carefully lay down again.

"Only through you and the king." She looked up at me, as curious as she was charming. "Will you tell me more, Peter High King? You said you were questing to save your brother. Will you tell me this tale? Why do you need this apple? What is your brother's name? Is he like you? What is Aslan like? The legends say he is a lion. What is a lion?"

I shook my head in amusement at her barrage of innocent questions. Telling her how and why I had left Narnia was the least I could do in exchange for her offer to take me to the Garden. I added some more branches to the fire, then shook out my blanket and sat against Phillip again with Rhindon beside me.

"It's a long story, Rhye," I cautioned. Her only response was to tuck her legs in more comfortably, and so it was with a smile that I started. "Fifteen months ago my youngest sister stumbled into Narnia through a magical door..."


	2. Chapter One: Anniversary

Author's note: Oops. Done forgot a disclaimer, so here it is: I own nothing and make less off of Narnia.

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**Chapter 1: Anniversary**

Later on, looking back, the thing I remembered most vividly was how happy we all were.

It was high summer and all of Narnia was celebrating the first anniversary of our victory at Beruna. We had actually been celebrating all week - parties and dances and feasts of all kinds. Gifts and well-wishers poured into Cair Paravel from across the country and the islands to the east. There was even an embassy from Calormen that brought us chests of exotic spices, the most beautiful silk carpet, and a gorgeously illuminated book none of us could read, but which thrilled the librarians and our chief scribe. Nobles from Galma and Terebinthia and the Lone Islands, while few in number, were ecstatic at reestablishing commerce and communication with Narnia. King Lune would have been there, but both his older sister and younger brother were each about to become parents for the first time and so he sent his mother-in-law, Princess Eo, as his representative. She was round and jolly and hugged us all every time she saw us and tried her best to get Edmund to eat more. Like Lune, Eo did not dismiss us or our opinions simply because we were children, but held us all in the same high regard afforded us by our subjects. The Archenlanders, descended of old from Narnia's kings, held Aslan in respect and love almost as deep as the Narnians. Eo talked clothes with Susan, politics with Edmund, games with Lucy, and horses with me, and we all basked in her motherly glow while Lune enjoyed a bit of peace, for she nagged him endlessly to have children of his own.

So all was music and happiness and feasts and we lacked only Aslan to make the celebrations complete. The last night before the anniversary was spent dancing and singing around a huge bonfire on the shore next to Cair Paravel so the Merfolk could join in, their haunting voices rising sweetly on the night breeze. We drank wine out of carved wooden bowls lined with gold which Tumnus called mazers and which he said were ages old. They were difficult to drink out of because they had wide brims, but we had all night to practice. The Fauns and Nymphs danced and sang and I knew it would be long into the morning before they slowed down. Mrs. Beaver was happily fussing over the food as it was served until Princess Eo and Susan grabbed her and they put their heads together and talked about heaven only knew what, probably marriage prospects for the lot of us. Edmund was in deep conversation with some Dwarf smiths, his particular friends. Celer was trying to teach Lucy how to play a pan pipe. She was giggling far too hard to make any progress, but it was fun to watch. Everyone was happy, I not the least of all.

"King Peter! Queen Lucy! King Edmund! And gentle Queen Susan!"

It was Tumnus with several Fauns and Satyrs behind him. They all carried what looked like wreaths, some of greens, others of flowers.

"Your Majesties cannot sit amongst your subjects without crowns, good king," said he.

I laughed, realizing what they held, and bent my head. One of the Fauns crowned me with ivy and holly. I looked at Edmund beneath a great crown of laurel and celery leaves. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing and feeling silly. The girls were crowned with roses, red for Susan and pink for Lucy. Both looked radiant. I noticed Tumnus took a long while getting Lucy's crown just so, crowding Celer out in the process. He adored her, I knew, and in truth I couldn't blame him, for Lucy was nothing if not lovable.

We drank many toasts to Aslan, to the fallen heroes of the battle, to the victims of the White Witch, to Narnia, and to her new monarchs. I was careful to make sure our wine was cut with water else we would have grown drunk in minutes, for Narnian spring wine is strong and the stuff that Princess Eo brought with her from Archenland could down even a Giant if taken straight. I only knew that because two days past one of the good Giants that had fought on our side at Beruna drank half a cask of Archenland wine and he had yet to wake up.

The merriment grew as midnight approached. I saw Lucy yawn and I knew she wouldn't make it far past the anniversary hour. There were enough celebrations planned well into tomorrow, though, to keep her busy. She smiled at me and I grinned back, catching Susan's eye. She laughed merrily, nudging Edmund as he sat there as grave as a judge. He was fighting a smile, I could tell, and between the wine and his expression I couldn't bear it any longer and I laughed aloud. For some reason that set us all off, even Edmund, and I listened to his laughter with joy, for in truth it was a rare sound.

A troop of Talking Mice, whose people had not spoken a word until a year ago, stepped out and sang a ballad in their shrill voices. The song was so high-pitched and piercing some of the Dogs started howling and none of us could understand a word. I did not dare look at Edmund throughout. It was wonderful how excited they were and by the last chorus we were all singing along, making up our own lyrics and drowning out the Mice.

A few minutes before midnight I stood and raised my mazer of wine. Everyone rose with me. I felt the flush of wine and excitement upon me as I called out a toast I had thought over all night,

"Narnia! Tonight amongst friends and allies we celebrate our freedom! Winter holds no dominion over this land thanks to Aslan, son of the Emperor-over-Sea! Drink with me now to Narnia and to Aslan!"

"To Narnia and to Aslan!" cried the crowd, and they raised their bowls and goblets and drinking horns in salute.

"Drink or drunk?" whispered Edmund beside me. I laughed. He was right, I had consumed too much wine. It was time for water, which in Narnia was almost as good as wine. Beneath his crown of leaves he was smiling as he picked up a pitcher and refilled my bowl with water. "The silver pitcher, Peter. Silver. Not the brass one." He set the brass vessel far out of my reach.

His tone struck me as remarkably funny and I burst out laughing. He shook his head, laughing right along with me. We were standing next to each other, watching Susan dance with the Nymphs around the bonfire as the Centaurs scanned the night sky, waiting for tomorrow. The dance was growing wilder, the music louder and merriment was at a fever pitch when Cheroom, the oldest Centaur present, lifted his mazer, the signal for midnight.

"To victory!" he shouted, and we all echoed the cry as loudly as we could, yelling and screaming out our delight. Trumpets and horns blared into the night, accompanied by huge drums played by the Dwarfs. Lucy threw her arms around my middle. I held her about the shoulder and I pulled Edmund close with my other arm. Susan saw and flashed us a brilliant smile as she danced by, beautiful in red and roses.

We were so happy. All of Narnia was united in celebration.

Suddenly Edmund stiffened as if startled. I looked down through the fringe of laurel and celery crowning him. The surprise on his face was replaced by shock and disbelief and he bent over as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Both his hands went to his middle, just below his heart, and he made a faint noise as if all the air had been forced out of his lungs in a rush. It was a sound of pure agony. I let go of Lucy and turned to him, reaching out to steady him as he peeled his hands away.

They were covered with blood.

"Peter," he whispered, and without another sound he collapsed.


	3. Chapter Two: Curse Awoken

**Chapter 2: Curse Awoken**

I didn't recognize my own voice as I screamed.

_"Edmund!"_

I dove to catch him before he fell. As I grabbed his limp body Lucy shrieked, seeing the blood spreading across Edmund's front as I lowered him to the ground. The dancers stumbled to a halt, shocked, unsure of what had happened or what to do. The music continued a few beats and stopped. Voices rose in alarm until Oreius's powerful command for quiet cut through the tumult.

"Get the healers!" I screamed, never looking away from Edmund, searching for the source of this wound. Had he been shot by an arrow? Were there assassins about? I shouted out for the army's general. "Oreius, a perimeter!"

I yanked his belt off and someone, Tumnus, I think, helped me to pull off his tunic. I instantly had my hands applying pressure to Edmund's chest, hot blood swelling between my fingers. Someone gave me a cloth that I pressed to the bleeding wound. Susan came rushing up, her face obscured by the shadows, her crown of roses askew.

"Lucy, your cordial!" ordered Susan. There was blind panic in her voice, but thankfully she could still think more clearly than I. She looked around and spotted Phillip in the crowd. The Horse looked ready to frenzy. "Phillip, quickly! Get us to the Cair!"

She leaped up, straddling the Horse, and many hands lifted Lucy up behind her.

"Hurry!" I ordered harshly as Phillip dashed away up to the castle. A dozen big Cats and as many Centaurs followed closely after them.

Oreius had already organized parties to search the immediate forest for possible assassins and set up a tight guard around me and Edmund. The Dryad, Dwarf, and Centaur healers in the crowd were beside me, helping to stabilize my brother. There was no visible source of this. No arrow, no bolt, no blade, nothing. There hadn't been anyone near enough to us to stab him and there were far too many revelers between where Edmund had stood and a clear shot with any weapon, especially for a wound that went straight into his body, not angled from above. His breathing was labored and he fought for every gasp of air. The sound was horrifying. It sounded like...

Like Beruna. When he lay dying in the field. Then it struck me. The wound...it was identical to the one Lucy had healed on him a year ago today.

I stared, hardly able to believe what I saw with my own eyes. Why? How? What sort of evil was this?

Around us the citizens of Narnia were standing close, every anxious eye upon us. Some people were crying, others holding each other tightly. I sensed the Beavers nearby, quietly attending me and comforting each other. Princess Eo was close, not interfering, but ready to help. Tumnus crouched right by my side, silent.

"Ed," I whispered. He reached for my hand and I gripped his tightly with my bloodied fingers, leaning close to his ear. With so many people standing between us and the fire, I had little light to see by, but I knew full well what I _had_ seen. "It's like the wound from her wand," I said for his ears only.

He gasped, alarmingly pale, but he held my hand a little tighter and he nodded, panting, "Same."

What could this mean?

It seemed an age and more before we heard the sound of hoof beats and Phillip came right up to us. I later learned that Phillip had run straight through the palace, up to Lucy's room and back. Susan slid off his back and helped Lucy down. She had her cordial around her waist and she pulled out the small bottle with hands that visibly shook. A single drop she let fall in Edmund's mouth, and within moments he drew an easy breath, then another, and I felt him relax beneath my hands. I drew a breath with him, suddenly exhausted as I helped him to sit up, seeing only now a much smaller exit wound on his back. He was restored, his wound healed.

Only now I realized I was crying. I ran my hand through my hair, knocking off the ivy crown, and I pulled Edmund in close. He hugged me back as Susan and Lucy tackled us both.

"What happened?" I asked, conscious of everyone watching us, the blood on my hands, the smell of the roses in Lucy's hair.

Edmund shook his head, pulling away. He looked mostly calm, but I could tell he was as rattled as I.

"I-I'm not sure," he said. He sniffed, mastering himself, and he looked to his sisters. "Thank you. Sorry for the fright. It felt...it _was_ exactly like when the White Witch stabbed me at Beruna. I can't explain it." He swallowed, then looked at the crowd of apprehensive Narnians. His voice shook as he said, "I'm sorry. I've spoilt the celebrations."

Oreius strode up through the crush of people. He shook his head. There was nothing in the nearby forest. If there had been anything or anyone to find, I knew his troops would have located it. Beside his nephew, Cheroom stamped one mighty hoof as if defying anyone to agree with Edmund. "Not at all, just king! You have been restored to us once again. We have even more to celebrate tonight!"

Ah, Narnia! His words had an instantaneous effect because the Animals and Creatures and Trees and Divine Waters let out a joyful noise and music and dancing started up almost instantly. Their younger king had just been horribly wounded by unknown means and their spirits were restored as swiftly as Lucy's cordial had restored Edmund. Remarkable. One thing I would say about our subjects: they loved parties and seized upon any excuse for them, and their stamina for reveling was astounding. The smallest things were celebrated, from the first snow, to the first wine, births, ends, and beginnings. The anniversary celebration had been rudely interrupted and they used that to rationalize another fete. It was as amazing as it was unbelievable.

But we were done for the night. Without a word exchanged among us I hauled my brother to his feet and we four turned and headed along a path that lead from the beach to the cobbled road up to the Cair. We drew close around Edmund. Oreius joined us with a dozen or more Satyrs to guard us. The Beavers and Tumnus, Phillip and Princess Eo all gathered around us as we walked. I was glad for a moment to think. The sound of the ocean was soothing to my ears and my wits as I fought off the effects of the wine and tried to reason out what had happened. It wasn't until then that I realized the cloth I'd used to stem the blood was Tumnus' scarfI would have to ask my valet to replace it.

"Majesty," Oreius called, not specifying which one of us he wanted, the surest bet to get all of ours attention. He was carrying Edmund's bloody tunic and by the light of the lamps lining the road he examined it closely. We all paused, waiting for him to speak.

"It's intact," said the general, holding it up. "There's no tear of arrow or blade."

We stared speechlessly at him.

What had just happened?

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"Convene a council at noon tomorr- today," I ordered Oreius. The Centaur and I stood outside the bedroom I shared with Edmund, and I was never more glad of that fact than tonight. I had heard Oreius double the guards when I ushered Edmund into the hands of his valet. "We must try and figure out why this wound reappeared and how."

"The lower pavilion?" asked he, referring to a gazebo-like structure right on the water. Unlike the Naiads and their River God father, the Merfolk cannot venture far from the Eastern Sea.

"Yes, I would like the Merfolk to attend. Send out the notices tonight, please."

"It will be done. If you need anything else, send for me."

"Thank you," I said, and he understood it was for all his actions tonight. "Good night, General."

"Good night, King Peter. Do you and your brother get some rest."

"We'll try."

Edmund was in the changing room, being fussed over by his Faun valet, Martil. My own valet, Silvo, wasn't far behind and he pounced the moment he saw me. It was only then that I noticed the state of my clothes and person. I was drenched in my brother's blood. Poor, kindly Silvo. He had finally cured me of making my bed every morning and cleaning up the room after Ed and myself and now this. Most Fauns were easily flustered, valets even more so, it seemed, but in short order I was scrubbed cleaned and dressed for bed. Edmund finally escaped Martil and we stood together on the balcony overlooking the beach. The bonfire still burned brightly far below and I could faintly hear the revelry. I was glad they had continued without us. Narnia deserved to have all the joy in the world.

"Any ideas?" Edmund asked.

"Only one," I admitted. "The wand."

He nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

A week or so after our coronation a family of Red Dwarfs had journeyed to Cair Paravel from Beruna conveying, of all things, the shattered remains of Jadis's wand. The Dwarfs claimed that they had been surveying the field for scraps of iron and metal when they came across the remains. Not knowing what to do with it, but recognizing that it was both dangerous and powerful and afraid the ghosts still haunting the field might do some mischief with it, they brought it to Edmund. He in turn called a council. We did not know what to do with the shards of that strange, silvery crystal, and eventually it was decided that we would simply contain the wand and hide it away until we could consult with Aslan about it. It was Mallo, leader of the Merfolk that lived in the sea by Cair Paravel, who eventually hid it in a cave accessible only from beneath the sea or at a spring tide. I knew where it was, and so did Edmund and Mallo, but noone else. Susan had ordered me and Edmund flat-out not to tell her or anyone else where the cave lay and Lucy had backed her to the hilt. Up until now, I had frankly forgotten about it.

"Council at noon," I said.

Edmund nodded, watching the bonfire. Eventually he sighed and said, "Well, good-night."

"'Night," I replied, reluctant to let him out of my sight. After a few minutes I abandoned the balcony and entered the room we shared. Edmund lay in his bed by the windows, staring at the ceiling. I sat on the edge of the bed, unable to verbalize what I was feeling, the fear and confusion and worry. He finally turned those dark eyes towards me and without a word he scooted over to give me room. I smiled at the invitation, knowing he was glad of my presence, and laid down beside him. I didn't expect to sleep, but Edmund threw a light cover over me and the sound of his breathing close beside me lulled me into a restless slumber.


	4. Chapter Three: Council

Thanks to Callie, who has most graciously agreed to beta read the chapter I'm working on presently, I'm able to post another chapter. My thanks to everyone who has sent me feedback. Your enthusiasm has fired my own and I'm so glad you're all enjoying this!

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Chapter 3: Council

Noon the next day found us four monarchs of Narnia sitting in the pillared, marble pavilion right beside the Eastern Sea. Oreius and Celer were there, along with Sharet, captain of the big Cats, representing the military. Kellerbeam and Blait, the chief Dwarfs of the Red and Black clans respectively, Chuloor, eldest daughter of the River God Callum, Tumnus, an ancient oak Dryad named Querq, a sage old Raven known as Sallowpad, and the head of Parliament, a Great Horned Owl called Lewiston, were already assembled when we arrived. Princess Eo was present at my request, as were the Beavers, Sir Giles Fox, and Cheroom. When we all sat or perched or stood or lounged according to our tastes, Mallo, the leader of the Merfolk, raised her bluish head out of the sea and sat on a nearby rock washed by the waves. One whole wall of the pavilion was open to the ocean so as to accommodate her people.

"Thank you all for coming," Susan said, standing up and starting the council. Everyone was silent for their queen. "We realize that this is unexpectedly grave at so merry a time, but we are greatly in need of your wisdom. A most disturbing occurrence befell my younger brother last night and we seek answers as to how this happened and how we can prevent it from happening again."

Edmund, all of eleven years old and looking it, drew a deep breath. He had clearly thought out what he was going to say beforehand and for the most part he dispensed with the courtly language we were laborously acquiring. "Last night, at midnight, I experienced a wound identical to what I received at Beruna a year ago. For those of you that weren't there or were engaged at the time, the White Witch was moving towards Peter to turn him to stone with her wand. We fought very briefly and...she bested me," he acknowledged.

I shifted uncomfortably, remembering losing my own duel with her and getting stabbed through the arm by Shafelm, Edmund's sword that Jadis had taken when he fell. All around us, Oreius, Sir Giles, Tumnus, Sharet, Mr. Beaver, Blait, Lewiston, and Cheroom stirred as we all recalled our own dealings with the Witch. With the exception of myself and Mr. Beaver, all of them had been turned to stone either in the Witch's castle or around Beruna. Edmund cast me a skeptical look at the effect of his simple admission and I fought down a smile. Only he could make a roomful of battle-hardened warriors squirm.

"I did, however, manage to break her wand with my sword," he continued to everyone's relief. "She used the broken end to stab me. I only survived because of Lucy's cordial." He drew a deep breath again and I could see why he had rehearsed this. It was difficult to hear, how awful was it for him to tell? "Last night, at midnight, the same wound appeared. If felt identical in every way to when she stabbed me on the battlefield. The shock of it, the feel, everything was the exactly the same and again, I only survived because of the cordial." He stopped, remembering, unable to go on. His older sister spared him any further statements.

"And now we ask you for any words of advice or thoughts you might have on this matter," Susan said.

Everyone was silent, pondering. I could hear the banners on the pavilion flapping in the ocean breeze and the waves pounded the shore with lessening ferocity as the tide went out. Seagulls, both talking and dumb, soared overhead. All of them were calling out to their fellows, but the Talking Gulls, the more numerous, were actually singing, using the waves to set their tempo. It was always a pleasant sound, but today I barely heard it.

"The shards of the wand are untouched and unchanged," Mallo abruptly announced in her high-pitched voice. "Where they lie I will not say, but cold, shattered crystal they remain."

I was actually disappointed at her words since a reaction out of the wand would have given us a place to start. I knew from that point on the council was doomed to failure, though the Mermaid's words started the councilors talking. There wasn't a lot of information to go on and many of them agreed that we lacked enough knowledge of the matter to draw any conclusions. Had Jadis meant this to happen just once, or at intervals, or every night? Was there a means to counter her works? Where had she learned to perform such horrible enchantments? While I listened closely for an hour and more as the wisest people in Narnia discussed the issue at length, I knew in my heart the only possible answer.

"King Peter?"

I looked over at Mr. Beaver as he put a paw on my knee, realizing I had not spoken a single word since we arrived. I managed a faint smile that didn't fool him in the least as I covered his warm paw with my hand. Finally I rose to my feet. Silence fell, and when I spoke the words just seemed to flow slowly and surely as if I had practiced them before.

"Honored guest," I bowed to Eo, "dear friends, and noble councilors, we thank you for your wisdom. I think, though, we are wise enough to accept the fact that we are ill-equipped to challenge any enchantment cast by the likes of the White Witch. She was evil, we are not, and her motivations and conduct are beyond our ken. Her magic was of a sort that cannot bring joy, though it wore the trappings of joy at times," I said, thinking of dark promises and Turkish Delight. "This last act of vengeance against our brother stems from a power deeper than we can know, and I believe Aslan is alone in being our hope for the breaking of this curse. Therefore, as you pray for Edmund's deliverance from this cruelty, I ask that you pray for Aslan to return to us, for our need is such that none other will suffice."

Edmund's dark eyes stayed upon me the whole time and I knew that he had been having identical thoughts, though with much simpler wording, I was sure. Indeed, it seemed as if I had voiced the thoughts of everyone present. The council concluded soon after. Tumnus and the Beavers escorted Eo back to the palace and everyone else dispersed or lingered to talk some more. I followed Lucy out onto the beach and our brother and sister caught up.

"Well, that was good for raising questions," commented Edmund, peeling off his boots. He set them on the shore and laid his crown atop them before wading into the gentle turf.

Lucy followed suit, hitching up her skirts as she followed him. "Do you think it will happen again?" she wondered softly.

"I hope not," I said.

"I pray not," Edmund added, eyeing some seaweed I knew he was longing to wing at any one of us.

"We'll have to wait and see," Susan said, ever pragmatic.

Annoying as it was, she was right. I sighed, gazing out over the calm, glistening water, listening to the waves and the Gulls calling to each other. A prayer rose up in my mind, simple and pleading.

_Help us, Aslan. Help me to save my bro-_

Suddenly something wet and salty and slimy slapped into my face and I sputtered, my crown knocked askew. Lucy was giggling uncontrollably and Edmund's eyes were wide with surprise as he stared at her. I made a face as I pulled the seaweed off my face and neck and she laughed harder. I had forgotten what a good shot she was. Deliberately handing my crown off to Susan, I stepped towards her, hefting the clump of slippery plants. She shrieked, knowing what was about to happen. Before I could throw it, Edmund nailed her in the stomach with more of the stuff and the fight was on.

It felt good to forget our cares for a while as we splashed and played in the sea. I made certain to throw Lucy into the waves regardless of her dress. Edmund saw fit to shove a handful of sand down the back of my tunic, the little beast, so I threw him shouting into the waves as well. Susan stayed high and dry, watching our antics from a safe distance until we dragged ourselves onto the beach and dropped down beside her. I had forgotten to take my boots off before I chased Lucy into the water and I could already see Silvo's expression of dismay. It was worth it. We lay laughing in the sunshine, watching the Gulls dance on the breeze and trying to sing with them as they started a new song. I wished it could have gone on forever.

"We have the army's celebration tonight," Susan reminded us, handing back our crowns. "Perhaps we should cancel it."

"Not on account of me," Edmund answered sharply. "I'm not going to stop living because I happen to be cursed by a dead witch. She'd like that, so she would."

"She would," I murmured. "As you said, Su, we have to wait and see. We don't know what will happen later tonight. In the meantime, it's still the anniversary of Beruna and our people deserve to celebrate, especially the army." Despite my words my anxiety was mounting. Tonight would be difficult beyond reckoning and I could feel a sharp twinge of fear for what the night might bring.


	5. Chapter Four: Waiting for Midnight

**Chapter Four: Waiting for Midnight**

I was disappointed with the council, though I'm not certain what I truly expected. This situation was beyond us all.

There was a huge feast that eve on Cair Paravel's lawn, held for everyone who had fought for Narnia at Beruna. It was just as well we decided not to cancel since so much preparation had gone into it already. The palace cooks were in a frenzy and the court musicians had written three new melodies in honor of our victory. Even the drunken Giant woke up in time to attend, much to the relief of the Dryads in the cherry orchard where he had been sleeping. Only with the utmost effort did I manage to smile and survive the whole affair. It frustrated me that these hearty veterans should get less than the attention and regard which they deserved, for it seemed to me that by giving in to our fear, we were giving in to Jadis herself, dead though she may be. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something awful and beyond our ability to fix was happening and I knew that Susan and Edmund felt as apprehensive as I did, though we all presented brave faces. Lucy alone seemed to enjoy herself fully and I watched her with relief and delight even as I kept a close eye on Edmund. Clearly the story of what had happened last night had gotten around and our subjects graciously excused our distraction, eating and drinking and reveling heartily as soldiers are wont to do.

Towards the end of the night I had relaxed enough that I didn't have to force a laugh and I was able to swap war stories with some of the Boars and Dogs. They were good company, though the Boars were a little difficult to understand. I spent a few moments of amazement as I poured them all more watered-down wine. It wasn't that I was carrying on conversations with Animals as much as I actually had war stories - _real_ ones - to swap.

The feast ended with the Gryphons giving us an aerial performance lead by Cyn, our chief scout. They were remarkably agile and graceful flyers and for a few minutes I managed to forget my fears. When the feast ended, though, I was reluctant to bid the soldiers a good night, frightened of what might befall my brother.

Not much later, Edmund and I were ready for sleep, looking at each other from across the room we shared. He had sent our valets away after they made us herbal tea and we sat alone in the lavish, familiar chamber, listening to the sound of the turf and the song of a mockingbird roused from his sleep. Lately I had thought about suggesting Edmund return to his original room down the hall, but I was very glad I had never voiced the idea because after last night I would have either been checking on him every few minutes or I simply would have invaded his living space as he had so kindly invaded mine. I knew that right now he wanted me near even if he never said a word and he maintained his distance in his usual cool fashion. I could read right through him as well as he could read me.

A knock on the door, and Susan peeked in. "Lucy's asleep. Are you two going to go to bed?"

I smiled and Edmund scowled, which for him was almost the same when anyone fussed over him. "Soon," I promised.

She stepped into the room, all in a velvet gown and velvet shoes and smelling of roses. She gave Edmund a kiss on the cheek before he could escape and then squeezed my hand as she passed.

"If you need anything, anything at all, call me," she said, looking me directly in the eye, meaning every word.

"Shall," I promised. "Sleep tight, Su."

"'Night," Edmund called softly after her.

She smiled sweetly, well aware that we would be up until all hours, then left. I suspected she would not be going to bed for some time and she'd be back to check on us during the night.

Edmund was gazing at me with an intensity in his dark eyes that bespoke great emotion. He had looked at me that way before Beruna, and then on the day I knighted him at the Stone Table early this spring. I waited, knowing he would talk in his own time.

"I'm afraid of midnight," he finally admitted in a whisper.

"So am I," I answered. I rose from my bed and went to sit beside him. He made no protest when I put an arm around his shoulder and held him close to my side. "We'll wait for it together. Do you want Susan here, too?"

"No," he said, swallowing with effort. "Just you."

"All right."

There was a clock in the next room, exiled because the sound it made annoyed me, but I didn't want to move to see the time. Edmund became increasingly tense, inching closer to me. Knights and kings though we may be, we're still children, and I knew he needed me to be brother and friend and father right now. I put my other arm around him, ducking my head against his dark hair to hide my tears as he let me pull him almost into my lap. He was breathing heavily and he caught his arms around me tightly. He was trembling. I pulled him closer, closing my eyes and holding my breath, praying to Aslan that nothing further happened than two scared boys holding on to each other as one day became the next.

Then Edmund's whole lean frame jerked back a few inches and he gasped, his eyes wide with sudden agony. I sucked in my breath and squeezed my eyes tight as my hands on his back were suddenly wet with blood.

Midnight.

He had just been stabbed again.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I didn't sleep that night. Despite Silvo's request that I lay down and try to rest, I couldn't. I spent the whole night sitting on the bed watching my brother and sisters sleep. Susan and Lucy had come at my wild shouts for help and Lucy's cordial once again saved Edmund's life. The girls refused to leave and climbed into my bed. Edmund and I joined them after we cleaned up and we huddled together as Martil and Silvo hastily changed the bloodstained bedding. Lucy nodded off fairly quickly, her head on Edmund's chest, and he soon followed. Susan lay close to his side, herarm stretched across both her younger brother and sister as they shared the same pillow. I sat on Edmund's other side, watching them.

This could not go on. It would destroy my only brother. He was already frightened beyond words, as were we all. The cordial could heal any wound, but how long could he endure the fear and anticipation of the pain? He would be tied to Cair Paravel, to Lucy. And what if the cordial ran out or simply ceased to work on the wound? This was powerful magic at work, far more powerful than we were equipped to deal with.

My head resting against the carved headboard, I watched as dawn, still early this time of year, gradually illuminated my siblings through the doors that opened on the east balcony. Susan, so lovely even with her hair tangled. Edmund, his clever sharpness gentled by sleep. Lucy, my baby sister, so soft and round and innocent. She was the same person upon waking, unlike the others.

I reached over and smoothed Edmund's hair off his brow. He didn't stir at my touch. What were we going to do?

"Aslan," I whispered to the dawn, "help us. Help me to help my brother. Please. As you love us."

That was all I could think to say. It was all I wanted in the world right now.

The door opened and Martil poked his horned head in. Beyond him I could see Tumnus and one of the Dryad ladies-in-waiting. They were worried and while I couldn't blame them, but I didn't want my family disturbed right now. I raised a finger to my lips for them to be quiet and motioned them back for the time being. I know my attendants and courtiers would fully indulge their anxieties when they found out I hadn't slept at all, but I defy anyone in my place to sleep after a night like the one just past.

I felt a touch on my arm and I turned. Susan was awake. She looked at me anxiously, knowing I hadn't slept. I managed a small smile for her, though in truth I wanted to cry.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

My voice sounded miserable even to my own ears. "Pray to Aslan," I replied, the only answer I had right now.

She nodded, dropping her gaze, and I knew that at that moment she sent a silent prayer to the Lion. I leaned back again, staring at nothing.

_Aslan, help us. _


	6. Chapter Five: Return

**Chapter Five: Return**

Three more days passed. Our schedules shifted slightly as we stayed up until midnight and beyond to be with Edmund as each night the curse made itself known and he was stabbed through the gut once again. It was awful to witness, painful to see. He never cried out, just let out that terrible gasp, and he never shed a tear.

I did.

I cried for his pain, for his fear, and for my own helplessness and frustration as every night I watched Edmund try to be brave while all the while I knew he was terrified. Every night we'd sit around him, holding him, vainly trying to calm and comfort him. I wanted to lash out at something, but Jadis was long dead and there was no real outlet for my fury at the situation. Daily, almost hourly I prayed to Aslan to come help us. Where was he when we needed him so?

Luckily with all the ongoing festivities there weren't any really pressing matters of state for us to deal with, though Edmund made it a point to assure the Calormene ambassador that this enchantment was no threat to Narnia's strength in peace and war. He didn't trust the Calormenes and neither did I, but he was our guest and we made him welcome even if the palace servants watched him so closely the poor man couldn't take ten steps without bumping into another maid or valet or stablehand. A week after he arrived he returned home in a large, ungainly galleon that had me thinking we needed a navy to protect us from people exactly like him.

This new idea sufficed to keep us and our courtiers distracted as we discussed the possibility of amassing ships of our own. The five representatives from Galma, humans all, were sent for and we spent several very pleasant afternoons with them discussing details of a navy in open dialogue. They were remarkable seamen and shipwrights. When they departed four days after the anniversary they had promised to send us charts, maps, navigational aids, and a learned tutor to teach us how to use them, as well as designs for various kinds of ships. Further, they begged us to visit their island as soon as we were able, promising to send their finest ship to transport us to their capitol. Galma fell under our jurisdiction and government as a dukedom, and for their own protection they wanted a strong Narnian presence to be felt by anyone who visited their small island.

We sent Princess Eo home with an escort of soldiers and loaded down with gifts for the newborn babies. Lune had sent word by courier that he now had twin nieces and a nephew and Eo couldn't wait to get home and get back to work on nagging him to give her grandchildren of her own. I missed her presence and her regular hugs, not to mention the grief she gave Edmund to eat more. It had been fun to watch and I knew he enjoyed it despite the faces he made. I did feel a little sorry for Lune, though, now that his two weeks of peace and quiet were over.

And every night at midnight, it was the same and my brother was stabbed by some unseen force.

I began to despise the night, though this week taught us all a heavy lesson about being kings and queens: our personal problems could have no impact on our duties. It was a hard lesson, especially for Lucy, but Edmund refused to alter our classes or work loads and the only change to our schedules was that we all slept later now. We bore up, plastered pleasant expressions on our faces, and went about our business of running the country.

On the sixth night since the anniversary, the seventh night of this ordeal, I sat with Edmund and our sisters in my room. Edmund didn't even bother wearing a tunic at this point. He just sat on the edge of his bed looking tiny and frail and frightened in a way he would only allow us to see. I closed my eyes, sickened by this whole grotesque scene of waiting for my brother to be magically run through as if with a shard of crystal.

I sat next to Edmund, one hand on his shoulder as we waited for midnight. Martil and Silvo were in the hall, their small hooves echoing faintly. This was the worst part: waiting. Susan slowly paced. Lucy sat poised with the bottle of cordial in her hand. I knew that until this curse was lifted we would get little accomplished. Even planning for a navy had been a mere distraction, something that turned our thoughts away from our real issue for a few moments.

A simple prayer ran through my mind like a mantra, the same prayer I had been saying almost constantly for a week: _Aslan, help us. Help me to help my brother. As you love us, as you love Narnia, please come and help us._

Suddenly the echo of hooves grew louder as the two Faun valets threw open the doors to the room, nervous and smiling as they bowed apologetically to us, then backed away.

And then we saw why.

My prayers had been answered.

Aslan had returned.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Lucy squealed and threw herself at the Lion. He laughed and smiled as he greeted her. Susan hugged him from the other side and he purred as she tried to reach her arms around his great neck. I wanted to rush forward as well, but I waited for Edmund to stand instead.

He was exhausted. His dark eyes were shadowed by lack of sleep, he seemed pale beneath his tan and thinner than ever before. He had not looked this terrible since he had been rescued from Jadis's camp right before the Battle of Beruna. Still, he was every inch a king of Narnia as he composed himself for Aslan. He stood and side by side we bowed to the mighty Lion. I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I straightened, I was so very happy for his presence. He seemed larger to me, but perhaps that was because the room seemed small by comparison to him, so competely did he fill it.

Aslan took a few steps into the room. He looked first at me, then at Edmund, and the light in his golden eyes told me he was happy and proud of all we had accomplished this past year.

"Peter," he said, and my name was exalted. Though his voice was quiet, it rang out in the like a bell's sweet chime. "Edmund, my son."

I could bear it no longer and neither could my brother. We threw ourselves at him with shouts of greeting and I buried my face in his thick, soft mane.

"You came," I whispered. "Oh, Aslan, you came! Thank you."

He smiled as I drew back, though now his eyes and his smile were sad. Edmund had yet to release his hold on the Lion and Aslan gently held him with one huge paw, purring as he rubbed his velvety face against Edmund's head and shoulder. Neither showed any inclination to let go of the other and it was only then that I realized my brother was crying.

Susan drew close to me, putting her hand on my shoulder in a gesture reminiscent to Aslan's. She rested her head on her hand as Lucy, upset by this sudden display from her stoic brother, came close to be held. I pulled my sisters in close and held them, giving and taking comfort as we waited for the inevitable blow to strike Edmund down at midnight. Aslan made no move to stop what was going to happen, and with a sinking heart I realized the truth.

He couldn't.


	7. Chapter Six: Could or Would?

**Chapter Six: Could or Would?**

Midnight came and went with Edmund in Aslan's loving embrace. Freshly healed, Edmund said not a word after the trauma was dealt with, he just returned to Aslan's protective hold. The Lion breathed a word and my brother nodded off in a deep sleep, the thing he needed the most right now. Lying on my bedroom floor, Edmund cradled in his paws, Aslan looked to my sisters.

"You should sleep, daughters," he said softly as Lucy tried to hide a wide yawn. They stepped over and hugged him long and hard. I kissed them both and off they went to their own rooms.

"Peter."

I turned and faced Aslan.

"You need to sleep as well."

"Can I stay here with you?" I asked, indicating the floor. I didn't care how hard it was.

"Always," he promised, his eyes gentle.

I pulled a light blanket off Edmund's bed to cover him, grabbed another for myself, and blew out the lamps and candles illuminating the room. I was so relieved at the Lion's presence that all my woes seemed to melt away and I was utterly exhausted by the last week. I curled up against his side, my head not far from Edmund's and pillowed on Aslan's front leg. I could hear his great heart beating, hear his rhythmic breaths in and out like the ocean waves. I was so content that I could have been sleeping on a bed of thorns for all I cared.

"Aslan?" I whispered, my voice slurred and heavy with sleep.

"Yes, Peter?" he whispered back, sounding amused at my attempts to stay awake.

"I'm s'glad you're here."

"I heard your prayers. I came as soon as I was able. I was delayed by a disobediant subject of mine, and he has been duly punished."

I could only wish misery and never-ending bordom on this nameless subject. I really didn't care about anyone but Edmund right now. "Did the wand we kept do this?"

"No. Not entirely. The wand's power was broken when your brother destroyed it."

"Oh. Is there a way to fix this?"

"I believe there is."

"S'good," I mumbled. If he answered, I never heard.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I awoke the next morning in my own bed feeling better rested than I had in ages. Of Aslan there was no sign, but a note rested on the table beside my bed.

_Peter,_

_When you _finally_ drag your carcass out of bed, join us in the small council room downstairs. Aslan says we have a lot to discuss. Martil will bring you breakfast._

_Ed_

Carcass? The brat. It was just Edmund's way of telling me he felt better.

Martil brought me scones and fruit and tea and I ate as I got ready. The last thing I did before stepping out of the room was place my crown on my head. The valets were fussy about such things, as if our subjects wouldn't recognize me without it. Besides, it was so comfortable to wear that I barely noticed it.

As I hurried down the broad stairs to the main level of the palace I was relieved to see Aslan waiting below. He was talking to something, but I couldn't see what until I got much closer. It was a Humming Bird, probably one of the ones Susan used as messengers within Cair Paravel. Now that I was closer it looked like a jewel hovering in the air before the Lion. The tiny bird saw me, zoomed first around Aslan's head then mine and shot off down the hall. I smiled as I ducked out of his way. Though Cair Paravel had clearly been built for humans, it had been expanded and modified to accommodate all the varieties of Animal and Creatures that were our subjects. All the stairs were long and shallow for the bigger inhabitants like Elephants and Centaurs and Bulls. There were cubby holes and perches everywhere, wide ledges overlooking the stairs and halls, smaller scale rooms, larger scale rooms, rooms that opened into the gardens, and caves and bowers and tunnels and dens throughout the surrounding landscape. Most of the Talking Animals preferred to stay in whatever their habitat in the wild would have been with a few exceptions who enjoyed the novelty of staying in a palace. Sometimes it was like living in a very neat, orderly zoo with carpets and we had all learned how not to be surprised at the size and shape and appearance of some of our subjects.

"Aslan!" I greeted him with a bow and then a hug. He purred and rubbed his head against me, almost knocking me over with his sheer strength.

"Peter." There was a smile in his voice as he spoke my name. "I have just sent word that we will join the others soon. There are things we must discuss first."

Slowly we walked together down the corridor, then out onto the balcony overlooking the Eastern Sea. This was one of the loveliest spots in all of Cair Paravel. Flowers bloomed all along the rails and the view of the ocean and beach was unparalleled, better even than the view from the throne room a floor below. Aslan closed his eyes for a moment, stretching his head towards the morning sun and testing the warm breeze off the ocean.

He sat on his haunches. "I spoke with Mallo. The wand cannot be removed or destroyed yet."

That I did not expect. "I thought you said it wasn't the cause of Edmund's curse."

"Not the cause, but the catalyst." He shook his head, knowing what I was thinking. "Bringing it to Cair Paravel made no difference in the curse, my son. It would have happened regardless, for that is the nature of such things. They cannot help but work. Do not blame yourself, Peter. None of this is your fault. At least the location of the wand is secure and out of the reach of those that might try to use it for mischief until I can safely remove it to a distant land. It will be well guarded."

It was hard not to obey, though a niggling hint of guilt remained.

"As we will discuss in council, there is a means to break this enchantment and nullify Jadis's power, destroying her ability to harass Narnia and your brother ever again."

"Did you know this would happen?" I asked quietly, not sure of what answer I was seeking.

His golden eyes were soft and his deep voice was gentle as he answered, "I knew it _could_ happen, Peter, not that it _would_. The White Witch laid the foundation for this the first moment she met your brother. The chance was always there. She cast a spell upon him few would have been capable of resisting, and when he ate and drank what she offered he was hers as surely as the Spear Head points to the north."

I nodded my understanding and we resumed walking slowly towards the council room. "Why wait so long to strike back at us?"

"She would have wanted you to be content and secure before disrupting your peace. She would have wanted Edmund to think he was free of her."

"It worked," I muttered. "Aslan, he can't go on like this. He's not sleeping, he's barely eating."

"Peter, what would you do to save your brother?"

"Anything," I swore.

"Would you leave Narnia?"

For a moment I hesitated, startled at the question. Leave Narnia? Was he returning me to England? Was I to be banished? It would be worth it to save Edmund. I swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I would."

He must have sensed or guessed at my dread, because he gave a deep, thrumming purr and brushed closer to me. "Do not fear, Peter, I am not sending you from this world. You are Narnia's High King for now and for always and she needs you as much as she needs King Edmund the Just to be well and whole. But the means to banish this spell lie far outside Narnia and it falls to you to fetch that means. Are you willing, my son?"

"Yes, Aslan. Tell me what to do."

"I will, but in the council. I have a choice for you, and you must choose according to your heart and instinct." He paused and I stopped to face him. "Your choice now will decide my actions in this event. I can accompany you on this quest, for it is long and perilous and hard, or I can stay here in Cair Paravel and see to it that Edmund is not consumed by Jadis's wickedness."

"If you go with me can we get there and back before Edmund is consumed?"

His eyes glowed with amusement. He knew I knew what he'd say. We'd had this discussion in the past and I was fairly certain we'd be repeating it in the future. "I cannot tell you what _could be_, Peter."

It was worth a try. I think my next question surprised him. "Aslan, do you love me?"

His rounded ears perked up. He smiled, placing a huge paw on my shoulder. "With all my heart, dear child."

I covered the velvety paw with my hand. "Then you'll be with me the whole time, too." Even to my own ears my answer sounded trite and a bit cliched, but in fact it was nothing more than the absolute truth and Aslan knew it. It would have been wonderful to have him along, but what would be the point if there was nothing left of Edmund to save? It was better this way. "Stay here. Keep Edmund safe. Don't let him brood too much and don't let Su fuss over him too badly. He can't stand it and gets cranky."

He leaned close to me, and I was shocked to see tears welling in his eyes. Why would he be crying? Then he spoke, and the emotion in his voice gave me pause. "You are far more worthy of your title and your throne than you will ever know, Peter Pevensie, and Narnia is blessed by your grace. If ever you come to despair on your journey, remember this moment, remember me, and that I love you."

He drew me near to him and I threw my arms around his neck, pressing my face close to his. He held me tenderly against his chest with his paw. "Aslan, I'm frightened."

"You are wise to be so, Peter. Just remember that without fear, there would be no bravery, and you are far greater than your fears."

"I don't feel very brave." Fourteen years old, faced by the impossible, and very anxious was what I felt.

"But you are, and everything you have done since setting foot in Narnia has proven it." He pulled back and touched my forehead with his tongue, a Lion's kiss. "Come. Your brother and sisters are waiting. The sooner you start, the sooner Jadis's power will be broken forever."

I nodded and followed him. While it was impossible to feel dread in your heart in the presence of anyone so loving and powerful as Aslan, that morning I came very close.


	8. Chapter Seven: Deepest Magic

My heartfelt thanks to Callie Beth and Almyra for their invaluable help with this chapter. They know why.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Chapter Seven: Deepest Magic**

I stepped into the council room behind Aslan and everyone rose and bowed to him. In typical Cair Paravel fashion there was no table in the room, just seats of various sorts set facing the center. Beside the rest of my family, Oreius was present, as were Tumnus, Sir Giles, Cheroom, and Sallowpad, who perched on the old Centaur's shoulder as usual. I took a low chair between Susan and Lucy and we all faced Aslan as he sat down next to Cheroom.

"We all know why we are here," Aslan said without preamble. He swept his gaze across us as he spoke. "King Edmund has fallen victim to a curse placed upon him by the White Witch. To find our way to a solution we must first have a greater understanding of the relationship between Edmund and Jadis." He turned to Edmund, his eyes gentle and understanding. "I would ask you, Son of Adam, to tell us of the first time you met the White Witch."

Edmund drew a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the floor. He didn't want to speak and I couldn't blame him for his reluctance in the least. It had been a year and he still hadn't told us the full story of his time with Jadis. I suspected that he never would, too pained and ashamed and confused by what he had been - and been part of - when we first came to Narnia. I had to give him credit, though. He spoke and he spared himself nothing, as if the pain of telling us was somehow part of his penance even though we held him to be if not blameless, at least forgiven. Lucy, closest to him, reached over and covered his hand with her own. He flashed her a brief smile, and, still not looking up, began to tell us of the first time he had stepped foot in Narnia. Some of it I knew, but not all. He certainly hadn't mentioned that the dwarf had used a whip on him, and I felt a rush of impotent fury, glad once again that Susan had shot Ginnarbrik and wishing she could have done it a week earlier. I knew that wretched Dwarf had abused Edmund horribly, and probably in more ways than Edmund even recognized.

When he mentioned Jadis's offer of food both Oreius and Tumnus started, the Centaur bringing a hoof down on the floor so loudly that almost everyone in the room jumped. Sir Giles, engulfed in a huge, overstuffed hassock, sat up abruptly. Edmund cast them a puzzled look and described how she produced a hot drink and a box of Turkish Delight by pouring a drop of liquid from a vial into the snow.

Here Aslan stirred. He and the others seemed to know more than we, but Aslan only asked, "Do you remember what the liquid smelled of?"

Edmund was quiet and still, a frown creasing his forehead as he wracked his memory. Finally he looked up. "It was...sharp and...and bitter. Almost like...vinegar."

"And you ate and drank," the Lion said. Edmund nodded, unable to look at anyone but Aslan. "What did it do to you?"

"At first I only wanted more and more. Later on I felt sick."

"Such is the nature of these things," Aslan replied, as if to himself.

Lucy piped up. "What does it all mean, Aslan?"

"It means, dear one, that this enchantment is both dark and Deep. I am familiar with the liquid Jadis used to produce the food she gave you. It is powerful magic and can only work in conjunction with one who would corrupt. One of the ingredients for its making, I do know, would have to have been Jadis's own blood."

At this Edmund let out a sound of pure disgust and horror. Given the chance I was sure he would have run to rinse out his mouth.

"I'm afraid it's true, my son. By eating and drinking at her table you have ingested her blood, and hence her great power over you. This is the Deepest Magic of them all, though I don't know if she recognized it as such. Because of this hold she was able to cast what is called a deathless spell upon you, something that strikes from beyond the doors of death."

It was Sir Giles Fox who broke the silence that followed. He let out a sigh, his whiskers and tail drooping. He seemed to know what this meant, or at least he recognized better than we did the gravity of the situation. Tumnus lowered his head to his hands, clearly distressed.

I listened with growing fear, my thoughts racing. "How?" I demanded. "How did she stab Edmund a year after her death? Why?"

Aslan faced me. "Why? For revenge against me and all of you and Narnia for thwarting her plans. As to how...a deathless spell is made to kill a person a set time after the one who has cast it has died. Usually powerful magicians use such enchantment against their enemies or upon their own servants. The manner of death is the magician's own choosing. In order for the magic to work the final casting of the spell must be accompanied by a blood sacrifice. In this case, your brother was the victim twice over. Should he survive the first attack, surely the second would kill him, coming so unexpectedly."

"And the wand?" asked Oreius.

"The wand was the channel for this magic and the means of sacrifice. Clearly she did not want for anyone to mistake who had done this to Edmund, hence the identical wound to the Battle of Beruna."

Edmund sank back in his chair. "Every bloody night?" he mumbled, using language he wouldn't have dared had Susan been in range of him. "I know she wanted to kill me, but really!"

Aslan's eyes filled with sympathy, familiar with the sensation of being mortally stabbed. "That is where this case is unique. I believe the recurrence comes back to the wand. It is a malignant thing, made by evil for evil purpose, but in the few times a deathless spell has been successfully cast, the source of the pain has never also been the source of the spell. This Deepest Magic cannot help but work, but every night since the first attack you have been restored by your sister's cordial."

Edmund's eyes grew wide as he realized what this meant. "You mean this will go on until the enchantment gets it right and I finally _die_ of it?"

Slowly, the Lion nodded. Susan sprang to her feet. "Aslan," she cried, "there has to be a way to break the spell!"

The Lion exuded calm. "Be easy, dear children. There is a means to save your brother."

I rose and eased Susan back to take my seat so she'd be closer to her sister. Edmund looked sick. Lucy was on the verge of tears. I didn't sit down again, but stood behind Lucy's chair and held her hand.

"Though this be the Deepest Magic," Aslan continued, "written by my Father in the chaos before the first dawn, the means of countering it is at once simple and complex. Once in Narnia stood a Tree of Protection, planted in the first few days of Narnia's creation. It was grown from an apple plucked from a tree that grows far to the west of here in a garden few may enter. You know your history?" his asked us with a purr and a gleam in his eyes. We all nodded, for it was Cheroom himself that had told us the story of the Tree and we would have gotten an earful had we indicated otherwise. Besides, it was a fascinating story and one of Lucy's favorites. "Then you know the Tree in the Garden in the West is what granted Jadis immortality and power here in Narnia, though she took the fruit unbidden. To break this enchantment and free Edmund, the Tree of Protection must be restored and you, child," and he looked pointedly at my brother, "must eat one of the apples it bears. The scent of the Tree was hateful to Jadis, and I can think of no better way of driving the remnants of her power out of you."

We were silent for a time, weighing everything Aslan had said. Overall his words made sense to me and I understood now what he had meant by leaving Narnia. I glanced over at Edmund and immediately sensed his distress at the whole situation. I loosed my hand from Lucy's and leaned towards him.

"Ed," I whispered, "it's going to be all right."

"I'm so sorry," he answered miserably. I knew he was on the verge of tears, something abhorrent to him, especially in front of anyone but his family. He was the most stoic and private of us, something we had all always respected and accepted in him. That was fine since I more than made up for him when it came to emotional displays, and frankly I often envied him his self-control.

Aslan stepped over to us. He was so large that to look Edmund in the eye he almost had to recline. "Be at peace, dear child. Know that you are well loved and do not despair."

_If ever you come to despair on your journey remember this moment, remember me, and that I love you._

I would have liked to escort him out of the room, but it would do the servants no good to see him so upset. Instead I knelt before Edmund and he put his arms around me in a fierce embrace, his hands clutching the fabric of my tunic in a white-knuckled grip. I held him, calmed him, and gave him a chance to restore all his defenses, knowing he'd rather vent this way than cry.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, right in my ear.

"Don't be," I whispered back in kind. "There's naught to be sorry for, Edmund."

So soft were his next words I wasn't certain he actually spoke. "I love you, Peter."

I kissed his cheek. "And I love you."

Finally he drew back, still troubled but dry-eyed. I smiled and released him, then sat down on the arm of his chair. Lucy took my hand again and I laid my free hand on Edmund's shoulder. The others were waiting in respectful silence for their kings and I was suddenly grateful to this handful of advisors. They knew and loved us best, and after hearing Edmund's tale, they understood. Aslan rose and nuzzled Edmund with his nose, purring loudly. Edmund actually smiled and almost giggled and I realized the Lion's whiskers must have tickled. It worked to lighten the somber mood in the room and Aslan returned to his original spot.

The wisest of a wise people, Cheroom the Centaur asked, "But how are we to obtain such an apple, great Aslan?"

I was surprised at the steady assurance in my voice as I said, "I'm going to go get one."


	9. Chapter Eight: Promises

**Chapter Eight: Promises**

There was quiet for a moment, and then Edmund's voice rose in disbelief. "WHAT?"

"I am going to go to the Garden and bring back an apple," I replied, resolving myself to the quest at that moment.

Edmund sat with his mouth hanging open in astonishment. Susan and Lucy wore identical expressions. Indeed, everyone in the room except Aslan seemed amazed by this announcement.

"Surely not alone, Aslan," croaked Sallowpad.

Oreius' surprise turned instantly to alarm. "You can't go alone, King Peter!"

"He will not," the Lion answered calmly before I could speak or Oreius could get louder. "He shall have a companion of his choosing."

"Just one?" gasped Susan.

"Two have a much better chance of success than a troop," said Aslan, casting Oreius a knowing look. I could tell the general was disappointed. He would have liked nothing better than to dispatch half the army to accompany me.

"Who?" asked Lucy, nervous.

"That will be for Peter to decide, dearest."

"Aslan, we know nothing of the Western Wilds," Sir Giles pointed out, and he of all people would know.

I remembered the description of long, dangerous, and hard. Giles had a good point. I looked to Aslan for reassurance and he fixed me with a steady gaze.

"You must follow the Great River to its source deep in the mountains in the west," said he. "Stay by the river. There will always be a path. Beyond the Western March there are no Talking Animals, but there are Magical Creatures of many types not found in Narnia. You must be cautious at every turn."

His dark eyes still wide with shock and apprehension, Edmund shook his head. "You can't. Peter, you can't."

I turned to him. "And you can't go on like this. None of us can. It's the only way."

"Take Oreius, then!"

"I won't leave our army without its general."

"I - "

He broke off, breathing heavily, a look of fear and pain in his eyes. He tried to speak, stopped, and shaking his head, he bolted out of the room.

"Ed!"

I cast them all an apologetic look. Aslan nodded and inclined his head towards the door, telling me to go after my brother. Darting into the hall, I followed it to the end. I found him easily enough sitting on the railing of a small balcony overlooking the south lawn, his feet dangling over the edge and a drop of about sixty or eighty feet before him. While it turned out that the only one among us that had any apprehension of heights was Susan, when we sat on any high railing the poor Fauns working in the palace tended to panic and so we avoided getting them worked up over (to us) nothing. Today, however, Edmund would have none of it, I knew, because everything about his stance spoke of dejection.

"Ed?"

Like the balcony above, this small area exploded with flowers and vines. He sat next to a planter shaped like a seashell overflowing with sweet herbs and heather and he idly plucked at the fading morning glories all twisted through the railing. I cautiously stepped over, then sat beside him, swinging my legs over the railing and settling in close beside him. He didn't look at me, just gazed out at the low, rolling hills illuminated by the mid-morning sun.

"Is Aslan mad I left?"

"Not at all."

He nodded, then sighed. "I'm a little overwhelmed. Sorry."

That was an understatement. "I know, but don't be. It was an abrupt decision. I should have told you and the girls alone, but it would have come out regardless."

"No. I overreacted. I'm being selfish, Peter. I don't want you to go."

"If it will save you and end this curse, I want to do it."

He whipped bits of morning glory off the balcony. "It's not fair," he gulped. "It's not fair."

"No," I agreed, "it's not. But what Jadis did to you isn't fair either."

He snorted. "I deserved what she did to me. I lied to you about going to Narnia. I was mean to Lucy. I hated you."

"You were angry and frightened." I shook my head. "Nobody deserves what you endured. I wish you could see that and forgive yourself. I never stopped loving you. I didn't always_ like_ you, but I've always loved you." I sighed, wishing I could better express what I was feeling. "I think I've had it easier than you have. Growing up, I mean."

"It's not your fault people compare us all the time."

"Nor yours."

He sniffed. We sat in silence for a few moments.

"I think I've got the easier role this time," I finally said, resting my elbows on my legs and holding my chin in my hands.

He leaned against the planter. "What do you mean?"

"I'd rather be doing, not waiting."

"It's going to be dangerous, isn't it?"

"Probably. We don't know much about the Western Wild."

"It's to the west and it's wild," he muttered, neatly summing up the whole of our knowledge on the subject. "I've put you in danger_ again_."

"No, Ed, Jadis is putting me in danger."

"She's in me! Right here!" He put his hand over the healed wound. "She's part of _me_!"

I took his hand in both of mine. "And I choose to do this so that we can destroy her once and for all. She may be part of you now, but she won't be forever. I won't let her. I need you with me on this, Ed. I need to know you won't give up while I'm gone. Promise me you won't lose faith in me."

"What?" he exclaimed as if I'd just cursed at him in foul language, offended at the suggestion. His belief in my ability to be a good king was absolute and he'd told me this countless times in countless ways. With one word he had just reconfirmed that faith.

I gripped his hand tighter. "I need you to promise me you'll carry on. Don't stop living just because you've been cursed by a dead witch," I quoted, producing a wry smirk from him. "Promise that no matter how long it takes me to get there and back again you'll be here waiting for me. You mustn't despair. Aslan told me that if I ever despair to think of him and remember he loves me. Promise you'll do the same. You'll have Aslan with you, and the girls. Let them help. You're not alone anymore."

He looked at me. I could tell he was thinking hard upon what I had just said. The gleam in his eyes was pure Edmund Randall Pevensie as he replied, "I promise I'll wait for you to get back. And if I despair, I'll think of you and remember you love me."

That wasn't quite what I'd had in mind, but it would suffice. I pressed for more. "And Edmund?"

He looked at me expectantly. I still hadn't released his hand.

"When this is over and I'm safely home and you're free of Jadis, promise me you'll forgive yourself. If you insist on believing you deserve to be punished let this time be it and then _let it be done_. Please."

I think the fact that I was begging had greater impact than the actual words I said, but he listened and after a few moments his hand tightened around mine and he nodded. When he spoke, it was as one king to another.

"I promise I'll try my very best."

"Thank you," I breathed, relieved.

"Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know who you're going to take with you?"

"Not really. I haven't given it much thought yet." I gave him a keen look. "Who do you suggest?"

"Phillip," he replied. "He's strong and steady and very wise."

I considered. I had debated asking Flisk, the Unicorn I rode in battle, but Phillip made much more sense in many ways. "Will you come with me to ask him?"

"Of course. Let's get back to Aslan first, though. He's probably sitting on Oreius to keep him from searching the whole Cair for us."


	10. Chapter Nine: Phillip

**Chapter Nine: Phillip**

I set Oreius to figuring out my equipment and the surest route to Caldron Pool, the point where the Great River enters Narnia. I had him do it because I knew he would not be content with anyone less preparing my gear. If I had asked Silvo the good general would have been breathing down the nervous Faun's neck. My valet had enough to deal with right now, he didn't need a growling, critical Centaur cluttering up my rooms. Oreius summoned Celer and they happily started planning as if for a new campaign.

I had asked to meet with Aslan in the library after I spoke to Phillip. Susan had set the librarians to researching the Western Wild and I was hoping the Lion could give me more details and clearer instructions. He agreed readily, nodding his approval of Phillip, saying, "It is best to bring a companion that loves your brother dearly. He'll be as anxious for success as you."

That said, Edmund and I made our way down to the stables. Phillip was out to pasture, so we walked along the paths to the green fields beyond the stables until we spotted him rolling around on some dust and grit, scratching his back. We both grinned and Edmund called out,

"Oi! Phillip!"

The Horse righted himself and looked around until he spotted us. Shaking off dust, he met us midway across the field.

"King Edmund. King Peter. Well met." He bowed to us, then butted Edmund with his nose. "How are you?"

"Sore, tired, and glad to see you," Edmund replied. "I should have come earlier. Thank you for the other night, you're quite the hero to the ladies-in-waiting."

Phillip looked smug. "They sent me carrots and apples. It was very kind of them."

I should mention here that Phillip was something of a rogue amongst the Talking Horses of Narnia. They were highly intelligent, cultured animals and usually had sophisticated taste and a love of finery. Except in times of war or extreme urgency (or revelry) it was considered the height of gauche for any Horse to allow himself to be ridden, much less guided by reins. It was the stuff of scandal and whispers behind stable doors. Phillip, however, cared not a whit for custom and equine social stance as he had carried Edmund at Beruna and ever since. He saw it as a badge of honor to carry a king on his back and he insisted that Edmund ride him regardless of the situation. There were plenty of dumb horses to ride, but Phillip scoffed at the notion of _his_ king riding anyone less. He had taken it upon himself to improve Edmund's riding ability and the results were so impressive that I had considered asking him for lessons myself, for who better to teach a rider than the one ridden? Apparently of late there had been mutterings among the Talking Horses that perhaps this rogue was on to something when they saw how close he was to not only to Edmund, but to all of us. Some Horses had even talked of asking us to ride them on occasion, quite the reverse of normal equine etiquette. Phillip scoffed at their wavering and just went about his business.

"Careful," warned Edmund. "None of them are married."

Phillip nickered and nudged him playfully and Edmund laughed. He scratched under the Horse's chin in a way only a friend could, for we have learned not to treat our subjects like animals, but Animals. I was glad to see the ease with which they treated each other. Flisk, my own war mount, was far more formal and finicky, though affectionate with me in his own way. I supposed comparing Unicorns and Horses was like apples and oranges.

"Peter and I need to talk to you, Phillip," he said, "and he has a question for you."

He looked at me curiously, then suggested, "Let's retire to the shade. We can talk there."

Seated under the towering live oaks and silver maples with Phillip lying beside us, we told him everything we knew. He listened intently, his ears sharply forward as he took in every word, casting my brother several anxious looks as I explained about the Deepest Magic and the implications of Edmund being healed every night. Finally the Horse shook his head and muttered,

"Such wickedness."

I smiled as Edmund patted Phillip's neck. "Aslan said I should only take one person with me. He says two have a much better chance than a troop. Would you go with me into the west, Phillip?"

He blinked, surprised, then fell silent so long I grew uncomfortable, fearing I had put him under pressure to accompany me. Quickly I added, "If you don't care to, I understand completely. It's going to be hard and dangerous."

Cocking his head, Phillip gave me a keen look. "No so, High King. I was just trying to think of whom I trust to carry Edmund while we're gone." He looked at my brother. "I'll send you word."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"We run the kingdom but not our own lives," grumbled Edmund as we headed back towards Cair Paravel.

I waved dismissively. "We make the big decisions. Let our friends and servants make the little ones."

"You watch. He's going to pick the oldest, slowest, dumbest horse in the kingdom."

"Maybe he'll pick Jett," I replied, referring to the coal black mare I rode most of the time. She was fast but sure of foot and with a very even temper.

"A donkey," continued Edmund, ignoring my optimistic suggestion, "or a pony at best. And Aslan help me if he gets word that I've ridden anyone else."

I laughed as we reached the stables. I saw several smaller Cats sunning themselves on the low wall running along the path all of them curled up or stretched out in luxurious comfort. After a hundred years of winter, few Narnians could get enough of the warm summer sun. I spotted one I knew well.

"Marin!"

The silver tabby raised her head and smiled, pleased with the attention before her peers. Rising, she made a great show of stretching before jumping down from her perch and looked up at me. "King Peter. King Edmund. Good morn."

"Good morning, Marin. I know you're not on duty, but can you take a message for me?"

"With pleasure," she lisped.

"Please tell Oreius that Phillip will be accompanying me. He'll understand. If not Oreius, Celer will do as well."

"Right away, sire."

Tail high, she trotted off.

"Now what?" wondered Edmund, eyeing the donkeys in the paddock skeptically.

"The library. Aslan is waiting. You'll look after Silvo for me?" I asked as we headed back towards the palace.

"Yes, I - " He broke off, realizing what I was asking and what he was promising. Wide-eyed and alarmed, he darted in front of me, walking backwards. "No! Peter, no! You can't leave them both taking care of me! It's two against one! They're worse than the girls! Not even I can make enough mess to keep them busy! No! I won't have it! I'm your brother! Please!" he begged as I kept walking, trying not to laugh.

"I'm moving into Phillip's stable!" he shouted after me, and I finally laughed as he'd intended all along.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"...Aslan, he is fourteen."

Though quiet, Oreius's voice carried as we approached the library. I glanced at Edmund and he frowned. We had been raised not to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to avoid hearing with the acoustics in the large room.

"And he is most capable, General."

Oreius, bless him, was one of the few people I knew who would argue with anyone whenever the safety of his monarchs was in question, including his monarchs themselves and now even Aslan. "I never said he wasn't. But to send him alone...why?"

Edmund stopped and put a hand on my chest to halt my progress. I gave him an annoyed look, for it was clearly a private conversation.

"A large band would attract unwanted attention. Alone, he will be able to travel quickly and avoid many forces that would hinder his progress. Besides, Oreius, where he is going, he alone may enter."

I smacked Edmund's hand down. "Not very noble!" I whispered tightly.

"But informative," he replied without remorse.

I shook my head and conjured up the dirtiest look I could manage. He was far from impressed. I made to push past him just as Susan and Lucy came up the stairs behind us, talking. I heard them say something about dresses and the morning and my mind immediately wandered away. Edmund recovered instantly and said, "There you are! Phillip agreed to carry Peter."

"Wonderful," exclaimed Susan. "Minovin said she's located some maps, too. They're not very detailed, but they're the best we can do for now."

I followed them into the library, not sure if I admired or condemned Edmund's cheek. A little of both, I supposed, hence my confusion. Oreius and Aslan stood at the table by the cold fire place. The table was piled high with old tomes and scrolls and large parchment maps. Minovin, the elderly Centaur that served as court recorder, came walking down an aisle with yet another scroll she had found. I stared at the intimidating heap of knowledge. The books were stacked higher than Lucy was tall and I lost sight of her as she circled the table to stand next to Aslan.

Oreius smiled at my expression. "Fear not, King Peter. Most of them simply repeat the same things."

"Ah," I managed. "So...what have you found?"

Minovin stepped carefully over the librarian, an aged Hedgehog named Irel who was curled up and fast asleep in a basket half-filled with scrolls. Pushing the basket and the librarian out of her way with one hoof, she spread the scroll out on the table.

"This was copied in the year 238 at the order of Queen Lily, wife of King Frank IV, when Narnia was trying to preserve the memories of the Flying Horses. It is a description by Fledge of the journey from Narnia to the Garden in the West. Unfortunately, it's the best we have." She handed it to me and with Susan and Edmund leaning over my shoulders I read the distressingly short account. High mountains, blue waters, snow, grass, deep valleys, waterfalls, toffee trees. Toffee trees?

Edmund frowned, then looked at the Centaurs and Lion. "Is it known how far he flew?"

Oreius, who had clearly immersed himself in lore of the Western Wild, said, "Accounts say that Fledge later estimated he flew a little under five hundred miles, sire."

I blinked. "Five hundred?" My mind was awhirl. That didn't seem so awful. Narnia itself was about two hundred miles from Cair Paravel to Caldron Pool, and narrower from the north to south. I could journey that far easily.

My expression must have betrayed my thoughts, because Oreius gently corrected, "As the crow flies, my king."

I opened my mouth, stunned, then shut it tightly. Finally I managed a small, "Oh."

The looks my siblings gave me were pure sympathy, for clearly they had entertained the same optimistic thought. Aslan purred to reassure me as he pointed to one of the maps with his paw. Not far beyond Narnia's border, though, the lines on it got vaguer until nothing but blank parchment remained. It was a depressing sight.

"Follow the Great River. When you find its source, you'll find the Garden. There will always be a path. Several rivers contribute to the Great River, but this is the only one that flows directly from the west. Do not lose sight of the river, for the mountains are steep and treacherous."

"Are they inhabited?" I asked.

"Not by Men and not by Talking Animals. There are other beings, though, divine waters and magical creatures of many sorts not found in Narnia. Some are intelligent, all are territorial. You must remember at all times these are not your subjects and will have little regard for the title of High King. Should someone invoke my name to you, though, they will be known to me. He who invokes me falsely will always be punished, while the true will be exalted. Remember this, for it will serve you."

I nodded, a little overwhelmed.

"Did Phillip agree?" pressed Oreius.

"Yes," Edmund replied for me.

"With your permission, majesties, I'll finish preparations. King Peter, do you wish to depart at dawn?"

Dawn?

The reality of the situation hit me and for a moment I couldn't find my voice. Recognizing what was happening, the others nonetheless remained silent. Finally I said, "Yes, please, Oreius," in a voice that wasn't as firm as I would have liked.

He bowed and departed, Minovin following him and allowing us time with Aslan. I swallowed and looked at them hesitantly. I was rattled but I tried my best to recover quickly. My brother and sisters were looking at me strangely and I understood how they felt.

"I...I'd best go talk to Silvo," I said awkwardly.

Susan stepped over to Lucy and whispered something in her ear. I watched as my youngest sister went from anxious to excited in a span of seconds. Her long face became animated and she nodded at Susan enthusiastically. Suddenly she burst out with a loud "Oh!" that roused Irel. She was positively glowing with excitement as she stood on her toes and whispered something back to Susan. Both girls nodded to each other, smiling as they conspired. Lucy suddenly tugged on Susan's sleeve. "I know just the thing! Mr. Tumnus! Mr. Tumnus!"

She ran off, still shouting for the Faun. Susan smiled upon us. "Excuse me," she said, "there's something I have to do." Gracefully she walked out, leaving both me and Edmund confused and staring after her. He looked to me for clarification and I could only shrug. Aslan chuckled and then carefully helped Irel out of the basket. He watched the old librarian waddle away, then regarded us seriously.

"You, good kings, must be brave and true throughout this ordeal, not only to each other, but to yourselves as well. You're both facing trials that will test your wills and your hearts. Peter, I know you're equal to this quest. And Edmund, I know you can endure. You must each have faith that the other will stay constant."

"We will," I swore.

"Yes," Edmund agreed, "we will."

"Of that I have no doubt," said Aslan, his eyes bright.


	11. Chapter Ten: Gifting

**Chapter Ten: Gifting**

_Julie has made me some marvelous artwork to accompany this chapter. Check out my profile for the link to her deviantART page to see Edmund giving Peter his gift!_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

I had little appetite as we sat down to eat that evening. Aslan joined us as we supped on the balcony shared by Lucy's and Susan's rooms. It was a simple meal by our regular standards, delicious I was sure but everything tasted like sawdust in my mouth. Edmund was somber as he picked at his food. He wasn't eating well, even with Aslan here.

During the course of the meal one of Susan's Hummingbird messengers arrived. It was a very pretty picture to see her holding the bird close to her ear, for their voices are as tiny as they are, and she couldn't help but smile the whole time the little creature rested on her palm. Message delivered, it zoomed away over the balcony and Susan said to Edmund, "Phillip says you can ride Jett or Marsk."

"Marsk?" he howled, then sulked for a while. I was the only one who knew why and I grinned, especially since now Susan would figure it out. My sister was as clever as she was lovely.

We spoke at length with Aslan, establishing a protocol for my absence. I was grateful Aslan would stay with them, but I also realized that we needed to expand the protocol for the future when he was not here and any one of us was away. They all agreed with my plan to turn the army over to Oreius until I returned. Edmund could not ride to war for fear of capture or further injury and Susan had not the inclination to devise strategies, though she was a formidable fighter in her own right.

That last night in Cair Paravel was spent not in my room, but Lucy's. We never made it past her room after supper. She was completely worn out but refusing to go to sleep, trying to spend as much time as she could with me before I went into the west as we waited for midnight to strike Edmund down once again. I remembered him saying to Phillip that he was sore and I realized that though healed the area of his wound was tender. The pain would do nothing but build as time went on until it became a constant in his life. I was suddenly glad I was leaving at dawn despite the short notice. The sooner I left, the sooner I would return. And I would return.

We crowded close to him as tomorrow drew nearer. He was fighting to control his trembling. I couldn't help but think that Jadis would have been very pleased with herself for the results of her curse and how we ourselves were forced to perpetuate it. True he had not died, nor would we allow him to, but every night was torture for us all and it would go on until the Tree of Protection was restored.

He sat between me and Aslan, one hand held in mine, the other gripping as much of the top of the Lion's paw as he could. When he gasped, I gasped, so pained was the sound. Lucy sprang to with her cordial and even as I eased him back against Aslan's flank the wound was healing. He would bear the scar all his life, I knew. I could only hope he would see them as I did, as a sign of his strength and valor and not a symbol of any punishement he thought he deserved.

Someone, one of the ladies, I think, handed me a bowl of warm water and a cloth and I gently washed the blood from Edmund's body and Aslan's golden pelt. Edmund leaned heavily against me, his brown eyes filled with so many types of pain that I had trouble looking away. I settled down next to him, right against Aslan's warm side. The girls crowded in until we were all a tangled heap on the rug in Lucy's room. I didn't expect to get any sleep that night, but Aslan had other plans. The last thing I remembered was a low purr eminating from his throat before Silvo woke me with a gentle touch. Aslan was again gone and we were all jumbled together on Lucy's wide bed. In extracting myself I roused my siblings. Susan immediately hurried to her rooms and Edmund asked for breakfast to be served in the small sitting room down the hall before growling at nothing and shuffling off to dress. He was so pleasant in the morning. I watched my brother and sisters prepare for the day anxiously and a little sadly. Edmund caught my eye and the expression I wore and gave me a look of understanding. He didn't say anything, but he knew how I felt and I was sure he felt the same. I wondered what had become of Aslan, half expecting him to join us at breakfast.

Her toilet complete, Susan return dressed and groomed and wrapped her sleepy little sister in a robe and put slippers on her feet before shooing her down to the sitting room. A lady-in-waiting and Martil had tea prepared and breakfast was not far behind. I had trouble eating, but under the stern looks of the Gentle and the Just I choked down a decent meal.

Susan pushed a small bundle wrapped in fabric towards me. "This is for you. I hope it will help."

I hadn't even seen it yet and I was absurdly pleased. Setting aside my cup of chocolate, I carefully undid the ribbon. Inside was a small satchel such as the archers wore over their shoulders to carry arrowheads and string and other small supplies. It was made of brown felt that the Sheep here at the Cair produced, soft and strong and waterproof, with a simple leaf design embroidered on the front. I recognized it instantly because I had seen it in Susan's hands for months. I knew she had been laborously working on this for ages - she wasn't a fast sewer by any means - and she must have strained her fingers to get it done.

"Su, this is marvelous!" I exclaimed, completely impressed. I undid the leather thong holding it closed to look inside. It was lined with soft fabric. "I'll carry the apple home in it."

She glowed, pleased with my delight. Then Lucy's lady-in-waiting, a dogwood Dryad named Avraiva, handed her a small bundle. She passed it over to me and smiled shyly.

"My gift."

It was a dozen handkerchiefs made of fine linen fabric. Each was edged with lace and I realized that in her haste she must have cut up one of her dresses to make them. That made them all the more precious.

"Thank you, Lucy. I think I'm going to need these."

"Mr. Tumnus helped," she volunteered.

"Thank him for me, will you?" I asked as I stored them in the satchel. Then I stood and gave them each a kiss and a tight hug.

I rose from the table soon after and went to get dressed. Edmund entered our room as I was pulling in the plain, heavy clothing Silvo laid out for me. He watched me for a long moment as I pulled a leather jerkin over my tunic, saying nothing though I knew he wanted to. I tightened my belt and put Susan's satchel over my shoulder and donned the swordbelt he handed me. Finally he stepped over, holding out a flat, wooden box almost uncertainly.

"Peter...take this. It was your Christmas present, but...you might need it."

Curious and pleased, I took the box, casting him a smile before I cracked it open. Inside was a knife as long as the dagger I wore on my belt, completely unadorned but carefully, beautifully made. It was in a stitched leather sheath and the handle was wrapped in black leather. I set the box aside and drew the knife. It was double-bladed and had a silvery sheen to it.

"Edmund...this is beautiful." I tore my eyes away from it, realizing. "You made this."

Late this past spring Edmund had visited a settlement of Black Dwarfs who worked a smithy not far from where the Blue River joins the Great River. Black Dwarfs are grumpy, argumentative, sour, and suspicious by nature. They had rebuffed Susan's attempts to strike up a steady line of communication and my letters received terse replies at best. They really were among the finest smiths and armorors in the land and we very much needed their cooperation, so when a courier returned with a reply that was nothing short of a dare, we decided to take them up on it. I didn't go to the Blue River. Oh, no. The glove was picked up by the person best suited to this challenge. At his own request and command, I simply unleashed our noble and beloved Sir Edmund on the unsuspecting Dwarfs.

He was supposed to have been there for a week. One week stretched to two, then three. Finally a message arrived from Brickit, Chief Smithy, asking if they could please keep him. The fact that they used the word 'please' was proof of his smashing success. They _adored_ Edmund, probably because he could match (and most likely beat) their sarcastic wit and he wasn't afraid to work and get dirty and lose his temper when pushed too far. Also, he was realtively short and had dark hair and with his oft times acerbic attitude he charmed them until they adopted him as one of their own. He had returned filthy, hating beer and smoked meat, reeking of sulphur, desperate for a bath, and with so many amusing stories about living with Dwarfs that he had even Cheroom laughing. He had put his time to good use and not just diplomatically: he had applied himself to their trade and earned their respect by working alongside them, starting with the dirtiest jobs they had, running coal and cleaning the great furnaces that heated the metal until he had secured their good will and trust. Relations with them since then had been excellent and they constantly asked if they could have 'their' king back for a spell. Susan and Lucy made it a point to send them half a dozen barrels of the best beer in the Cair's cellar and two dozen tanned hides of various sorts for use in their craft. Three weeks were not nearly long enough to learn even the basics of their trade, but the Dwarfs had talked and guided him through a number of projects including bracelets for Susan and Lucy and signet rings for me and himself.

And he had made me a knife.

I stared at it, awestruck that my brother had made me something so elegant. It was balanced and solid and just the right size for my hand. I was speechless for a minute and I sat down on the bed.

"For me? Ed, this...it's amazing! You made this."

"I had a _lot_ of help."

"I...how can I ever thank you for this?"

He rolled his eyes and gave me that special look that told me I was being an idiot, folding his arms as he said, "After you return from riding out blindly into the wilderness to save my life, I'm sure I'll find some means for you to thank me, Peter."

I laughed and he joined me, shaking his head in wonder at my occasional foray into denseness. Standing up, I wrapped my arms around him in a tight embrace. Tears stood in my eyes as he hugged me back. I missed him already.

"I love you, Edmund," I said. I kissed the top of his head. "I'll hurry back. I swear."

"Thank you," he whispered, holding on as if he never wanted to let go. I knew I didn't.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Fire and Song

**Chapter Eleven: Fire and Song**

It was dark and quiet in the Cair as we made our way down the stairs. I was anxious to see Aslan before I had to set out but none of the pages seemed to be around. Strangely, the palace seemed deserted. Even at night there was activity in a place so huge - guards, maids, nocturnal Animals, cooks, and High Kings that hadn't learned not to worry too much roamed the corridors. By the time we reached the main entrance hall, I was genuinely concerned. Where were the guards? The Bats that servd as night couriers? The Owls that always assembled in the library to debate philosophy with the Opossums and Raccoons until dawn?

Oreius waited by the main doors with Celer and several Satyrs. Both were traveling with me today but I was surprised to see them wearing full battle armor. They all bowed when they saw us and I hurried forward.

"Oreius, have you seen Aslan?" I asked. I could only hope I didn't sound as worried as I felt.

He actually smiled, a rare enough event that I noted it, and he plucked the pack and the cape I had slung over my shoulder out of my hands. "He awaits you outside, High King."

"Thank you," I said, thoroughly confused. I glanced back at my siblings to see if they were as confounded as I and I realized only then they were dressed as they had been for our coronation, all the way down to capes and crowns. I stared for a moment, then Oreius gestured and the Satyrs threw open the main doors of the palace. At the sound of a mighty roar I whipped around to see Aslan waiting on the landing outside. Beyond him, thousands of torches were held aloft by Narnians of every description - Dryads, Dwarfs, Naiads, Fauns, Animals, Satyrs, Nymphs, Giants, Magical Creatures - each carrying a speck of light that illuminated the pre-dawn darkness with a golden glow. Narnia's army, in full battle gear and with every banner held aloft, lined the whole long road leading to Cair Paravel, splitting the flickering sea of light. I gasped. It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen and I was struck absolutely speechless.

I was aware of Susan taking my hand and Lucy and Edmund stood close and admired the view with me. I let out a breathless laugh and finally managed to say, "You knew about this!"

"And you didn't," grinned Lucy. The other two were smiling in satisfaction.

I laughed, fighting tears, suddenly very glad Lucy had given me so many handkerchiefs. They all hugged me at once and I returned the embrace before facing Aslan. I could tell he was very pleased at having surprised me so completely and he stood back to let me have this moment. I stepped past him to the very edge of the landing and let myself be amazed. They had done this for me. All of them, from Aslan all the way down to the troop of Mice lined up in front holding small tapers. I tried to speak, but there were no words for such a display. Nothing I could ever say could match or do justice to the feeling of love I experienced that morning. Since words utterly failed me, I thanked them in the only way I could think to express my gratitude to each and every one of them.

I bowed deeply and humbly to my subjects as I bowed to noone but Aslan himself, dropping down to one knee and and bending my head low.

For a few heartbeats the crowd seemed to hold its breath in surprise, and then a tremendous cheer like a tidal wave erupted from every throat. On and on it went until I felt myself blushing.

I rose, still awestruck, then walked over to Aslan. Drawing Rhindon, I held the sword before me as I knelt again.

"Aslan, I ask your blessing for this quest."

He laid his big, heavy paw on my shoulder, leaning close enough that I could smell the sweet scent of his mane and breath. I bent my head as he said, "My blessings, and the blessings of all of Narnia upon you, Sir Peter, High King over all Kings of Narnia. As I love you, I will be with you every step. May your journey be swift and safe, and may you return triumphant over the evil that lingers like a shadow on our land. Be true and brave and above all, never forget to wipe your sword." Then he kissed me on the cheek.

I smiled then laughed instead of crying, and my family laughed with me. As I hugged Aslan as hard as I could one last time the Narnians broke off cheering and burst into a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. It wasn't quite a song as it really didn't have words, just long, haunting chords of sound. The mermaids had sung something similar when we had been coronated and I later learned that it was a sacred hymn, a faint echo of the song that Aslan had sung a thousand years ago to bring Narnia and its inhabitants to life. The Trees and the Waters had remembered it and passed it on through generations. It was strange and beautiful, the sort of song that echoed in your dreams and on the very edge of your memory.

Phillip was at the bottom of the steps and my brother and sisters walked me to him. I hugged and kissed the girls one last time and then faced Edmund. At first he couldn't speak, then he finally whispered, "Be safe."

I opened my arms and he ducked his head against my chest as he wrapped his arms around me. I held him tightly, my throat constricting as I fought back tears. He was so small. So very thin and small, it seemed, even though he was gaining on me in height. I fancied I could feel his ribs.

"You have to eat more," I rasped.

"Yes, Princess Eo," he droned in exactly the same tone he'd used on Lune's mother-in-law, his voice muffled against my chest. I dropped a final kiss to the top of his head and let him go. He smirked, pleased, as always, by my easy affection.

Mounting up, I leaned over and clasped his hand. "I'll be back soon. I promise." I looked over at the girls, including them as I said, "I love you all very, very much. Stay out of trouble while I'm away."

Edmund snorted, looking up from his final good-bye to Phillip as he asked, "And what are we supposed to do until you get back?"

As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, I smiled and replied, "Plan a navy."

I cast one final look at Aslan, so golden and proud, then wheeled Phillip about. Oreius and Celer came down the steps and joined me. Every fourth or fifth soldier stepped out as we passed and fell in behind us as we set out on a path through a sea of fire and a song of creation and a mighty Lion's deafening roar of farewell.


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Western March

**Chapter Twelve: The Western March**

We traveled for six days at an easy pace, mostly for Phillip's sake so he didn't tire too quickly. Parties had gone on ahead and set up camps in stages along the route and our supplies were already waiting at Caldron Pool, the last camp before the Western March. Oreius stayed right beside me the entire time, detailing the supplies he'd assembled and issuing a seemingly endless list of instructions and suggestions for survival. I knew he hated to send me off alone, but if Aslan said this was the best and safest way for me to travel, he would accept it and do everything in his power to ensure that safety. One instruction stood out vividly because he repeated it most often: _If it's edible, my king,_ _eat it._ I was at best a fair hunter, but I expected that hunger was an excellent teacher. He had shown me and Phillip many edible plants along the way and I suspected Phillip was given the additional job of making sure I ate. Oreius knew what kind of appetite I normally possessed and I think he feared I might starve to death if not fed constantly.

"Phillip, I order you now to tell King Peter when the least thing is wrong or hurting," Oreius said as we crossed the Dancing Lawn on the third morning. "You both need to be healthy and fit to make it back. If you are tired, say so. If you prefer the king to walk, say so. There are extra shoes and nails in your supplies. You can talk him through shoeing?"

And on and on and on until my brain was full of advice. It was almost worse than learning statecraft from an Elephant, which is what I would have been doing otherwise.

Each night, despite the comfort of my tent, I had a great deal of trouble sleeping. My sleep schedule had shifted slightly since the anniversary and now I was used to going to bed past midnight. I would linger awake, wondering if it was midnight and if Edmund was bleeding or healed or wanting me there with him. Truly I wanted to be with him through this. I tried not to miss them and Aslan, but it was useless. I had never been away from my siblings for long and Aslan...being around Aslan was to be absolutely content and secure. He was as much my definition of home as my brother and sisters.

Phillip did have a confession to make as we rode along. When I asked him about Jett and Marsk he admitted that he didn't mind Edmund riding any dumb horse he chose. Jett and Marsk were, in his opinion, the best of the horses available for Edmund's size even if Marsk was more steady and plodding than powerful and fast like Jett. He took issue with any Talking Horse trying to carry Edmund in his absence and he added that many of his peers were frankly jealous of the attention he received even though they weren't willing to sacrifice their equine dignity for it. I assured him Edmund had no intention of riding any other Talking Horse, which made him happy and guilty enough to add that he had asked the Dogs at the Cair to follow Marsk and Jett - but not Edmund - everywhere they went with a rider. I had a ridiculous image in my mind of Edmund going for a ride and a pack of jabbering, gossiping, barking, joshing, rumor-mongering Hounds of every description streaming behind him like a comet's tail, all the while assuring my brother it wasn't _him_ they were tailing.

On the sixth evening we reached the small camp at Calrdon Pool. Up the steep, rocky hill that channeled the Great Waterfall was the Western Wild. This was the last night I would spend in Narnia, among people who knew and loved me. A year ago it had seemed so strange to _stay_ in Narnia, and now it seemed impossible to _leave_. I wondered if the air and water would taste the same once I stepped past the border. It seemed as if it should, but I couldn't see how it could. Though all this world had been created by Aslan, Narnia was the seat of his power and love and grace.

And he had made me Narnia's High King. Even after a year it still amazed me. It seemed closer to a lifetime ago, so wonderful and full was every day here in Narnia.

Once again I laid awake far into the night, thinking of Edmund awaiting midnight and a fresh stab through his belly, Lucy and Susan and Aslan sitting with him. If it was horrible for us to anticipate each night, how terrifying was it for him? Knowing each night you will receive a mortal wound, unable to venture far, unable to sleep or rest or relax. My heart was racing just thinking about it. How long could he live under such horrible conditions? How long before the anxiety wore down his health and mind? How long before he finally stopped thinking he deserved to be punished for his betrayal? How long before he gave in to the pain? He had promised to wait, but how long could anyone endure that agony?

I sighed and turned over on the field cot, staring at the pile of supplies stacked in the corner of my tent. Normally I found the cots as comfortable as my bed, but tonight nothing seemed right. Finally I gave up and got dressed, stepping out into the moonlight.

"Majesty?"

I should have known Oreius would be awake. It was a beautiful night and Centaurs have a passion for stargazing. The stars and planets were low and bright despite the full moon. "I can't sleep, Oreius," I said. "Is it midnight?"

His voice betrayed his concern. "Almost, King Peter." He moved slowly as he came and stood so close beside me his foreleg brushed my leg, and he laid a hand upon my shoulder. "Your sisters and Aslan are with him."

I drew a deep breath, feeling hopelessly outmatched by the whole situation. "How can anyone be so cruel?"

"She enchanted him from the first, Sire, and laid down the foundation for this last act of vengeance. As you said, she is evil and we are not and her conduct is beyond our ken."

We stood together watching the sky as the minutes passed. Among the constillations I picked out the Panther and Culros, who according to legend was the unwilling consort of the Night and he had set her outline with the most brilliant stars as a token of his love. Oreius's hand tightened and I knew it was midnight. I was silent, closing my eyes, imagining Edmund's gasp. He hadn't screamed, not that first time at Beruna and not since. A quiet sound, the air driven from his lungs, shock and pain in his dark eyes and then...he fell.

I ran both hands through my hair, turning away from the image so abruptly that I bumped into Oreius's chest. I leaned against him. I needed someone stronger than me right now and I felt him hold me close to him. He understood. Thank Aslan for this Centaur, for he understood as one soldier understands another. It would be a long time, months, even, before I would have the chance to lean upon someone stronger than me and I felt no shame in depending on him at the moment. I brought my fist weakly down onto his breastplate, stricken at the injustice of Jadis's petty revenge. He held me gently until I drew away. His hand lingered on my shoulder and I covered it with my own to reassure him that I was well.

"My king, I beg you - let me accompany you on this quest," he said, not for the first time.

I shook my head, touched and reassured. He was frustrated about being unable to do more. "No, Oreius," I said. "Narnia has two kings but she has only one general. I'm leaving the safety and protection of the country to you. I spoke to my brother and sisters that last night at the Cair and they all agreed. Edmund and Lucy can't ride into battle now. If the need arises, Susan will accompany you in the field. She'll follow your orders and whatever plans you devise. I know you'll do whatever you think best to keep Narnia and her rulers safe. You have my complete trust and confidence, Oreius, and I give you absolute command of the army."

He stared at me with a hint of sadness in his eyes. He knew he couldn't go, but I knew he wanted nothing more than to protect me at every turn and I appreciated his devotion more than I could express.

"A small band of soldiers will be stationed here at all times until your return, King Peter," he promised, gazing at me intently. "You wish to leave now."

I sighed and nodded. "If Phillip is agreeable. I won't sleep tonight."

"I will see."

Half an hour later I was dressed in the padded leather jerkin and heavy boots he had insisted Silvo pack for me and Phillip was loaded with our supplies. I was carrying my heavy pack as I emerged from my tent. I saw the Centaur and Horse talking quietly together. Probably some last-minute advice, though I doubted I could jam one more bit of information into my head right now, at least not without pushing out something I already knew to make room.

"Remember Aslan's words and go with his blessing and mine, Peter," said Oreius, forgoing my title for the first time since I had met him. It was pleasant to hear. "Always be careful and remember your training."

"I will," I promised, hefting my pack from the ground beside Phillip. "Protect Narnia and all my family, General."

"I will, my king."

I touched the Horse's shoulder. "Let's go, Phillip."

And so we stole away into the night, guided by the river in the light of a full moon.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Into the West

To everyone who has read this, and especially to those of you who have sent me reviews, thank you so much for your enthusiastic response and support. Your kind words mean the world to me and I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. It will probably be a few days before I can post another chapter as my family is coming to visit and I'll be quite busy for about a week. I'll update if I can get near the computer!

**Chapter Thirteen: Into the West**

There is a trail, steep but obvious and wide, that cuts into and around the cliffs that mark Narnia's Westwen March. Oreius lead us there and with a final, rough hug for me and a slap on Phillip's flank, he sent us on our way. At the crest of the hill I paused, panting a bit and gazing at the land beyond. For now it looked just like Narnia, but I suspected that would soon change. I glanced back at the camp, a small speck of light further down the Great River. I fancied I could see Oreius far below and I knew he'd be watching until I was well out of sight. I waved a final time, took a deep breath, and strode into the Western Wild.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but the air didn't seem as nice and even by the light of the moon the colors seemed less vibrant. I knew I was biased, but I have ruled and lived in and loved Narnia for over a year now and I knew I would never find another place as beautiful. I looked at the trees and knew they were just trees. No loving, tending Dryads gave them life and spirit. No Naiads played in the river. The moon shone brightly but no Fauns and Satyrs danced by the light for no other reason than it was a full moon. This land was alive, but it was not filled with Aslan's grace.

Since it was night I walked and we picked a careful path. I suppose part of me didn't want to endure the change from Narnia by the light of day. I was very glad for Phillip's presence. I wasn't afraid of being out like this in the darkness, but I wasn't used to it and having a companion made it easier. We didn't talk for now, both of alert for possible animals or other threats as we walked.

We paused for a rest at dawn and I ate a little of the food Oreius had put in my pack. Field rations in Narnia were actually quite good and there were blueberry bushes about that were loaded with fruit. Phillip set to the grass beside me and we watched the sun rise over Narnia. I thought about the Cair stirring to life, Animals and Magical Creatures setting about their tasks. In an hour or so Edmund would be in full armor, standing before Kanell as the relentless Centaur captain drilled him in swordsmanship. I knew he would miss me trying not to laugh at all his wise-cracking comments. He would join the girls for breakfast afterwards. Lucy would just be waking up and Susan would be prepared for the day already. Breakfast, then classes of all kinds in the morning, each monarch with their individual teachers except for the times that Cheroom, Edmund's tutor, would assemble them for some special instruction. We were learning history, astronomy, etiquette, dance, singing, statecraft, rhetoric, diplomacy, riding, shooting, and beyond that, Edmund and I were being taught how to track, military strategy and drills, weapons, and Oreius had been about to introduce us to jousting. After noon they would attend to royal duties and later play on the beach or go riding before relaxing through the evening.

Except the horrible anticipation of waiting for midnight, it was a wonderful life for us all.

I was a little lonely as I sat on the ground, thinking of them. Still, I was aware of a certain relief that I was able to do this and restore balance to Narnia. Aslan was right. The country needed Edmund whole and healthy, and so did we all, especially me.

I glanced over to see Phillip watching me intently. I smiled, realizing I had been thinking very hard and had been frowning. I picked him a handful of berries and he munched them thoughtfully.

"Not as good as apples," was his assessment, and I had to agree.

We pressed on for the rest of the day. By evening the lack of sleep was catching up with me and I was glad to make camp. I awoke the next morning so stiff and sore I didn't think I'd ever be able to move again, and the reality of being on a quest hit home.

We quickly settled into a routine. Every morning before dawn I broke camp after finishing off whatever had served as my dinner. I learned quickly how to pack efficiently and to balance the load as much as possible for Phillip. I was glad Oreius had packed for me because he included a lot of small things it would not have occurred to me to bring until I needed them, like flint and steel and a small cooking pan and salt. I would ride for several hours, pausing only if I recognized edible plants and berries and gathering what I could as we went. Any time I spotted game I tried a shot, careful of where I loosed an arrow since I had to retrieve them all. I hit game - squirrels and rabbits and birds - as often as I missed, but hunger gradually improved my skill and eventually I ate meat almost every other night. Phillip made it a point to eat every chance he got during these pauses. His only complaint was that the grass didn't taste nearly as good as the stuff in Narnia, but I had the same complaint about everything from the meat to the water to the air beyond Narnia's borders.

I walked most of the afternoon to spare Phillip, wearing Rhindon on my back to make walking easier and to lessen the strain on my lower back, always carrying the bow in case of game. We followed the trail along the river. At first it cut through a rocky gorge. There was evidence of many rockslides - scars on the rocks and large piles of rubble - but we encountered no troubles. A few days later our route wound interminably through the green valleys, wandering through the foothills, inching westwards all the while. We usually didn't stop until sunset or just after, depending on if I had shot something for my dinner or not. I'd start a fire, rub Phillip down, and then cook dinner if necessary. Normally I'd go for a swim or soak my feet in the river to clean up. It was still warm enough that I could swim, though we both knew autumn was not far away. If I had any energy in reserve I practiced with my sword, loath to think of what Oreius would say if my skills faded. I tried to sleep soon after, hoping I was so worn out I'd sleep through the night if the weather and my running thoughts permitted.

That would constitute a perfect day on this quest. They were actually few and far between.

The trail was at best faint, not to be seen at the worst. We kept the river and the Spear Head to our right, forever traveling upstream. Sometimes the river was calm, sometimes the banks squeezed it into cataracs. For now the ground was fairly level and lush, but after four days we could see spot the peaks of mountains looming on the horizon that grew larger and more intimidating with every step.

The weather at first was pleasant, but after a week or so (I had difficulty keeping track of the days) the clouds seemed to just settle above us and never went away. After the first day of naught but rain, I got wet and stayed damp for days on end. I could appreciate the lengths Susan always went to keep her bowstring dry and I swore never to make that particular mistake again, because as soon as I couldn't shoot, game seemed to abound in this lonely land.

I couldn't tell you how many miles we covered each day. Phillip was a much better judge of such things. Sometimes we made excellent time, other times, like when we came to waterfalls or lost sight of the trail and just had to follow the river itself, we slowed to a crawl. The elevation gradually increased and I noticed the vegetation was changing and becomming less familiar. It was still relatively warm, but the signs of approaching autumn were showing themselves, especially at the higher elevations. I did not relish the notion of winter out here, but we moved as quicly as the terrain and caution would allow.

And finally, I was having a terrible time sleeping. I simply could not fall asleep for worry about Edmund. Logic told me he was far better off than I, what with Aslan beside him and a roof and a bed and much nicer food, but the way he had said Jadis was in him, part of him, came back to haunt me as I tried to sleep.

He had better hold on.

And I knew I had better hurry or our dead enemy might overwhelm him and triumph after all.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Slinn

Author's note:Sneaking in another chapter before the family invades midcoast Maine!

**Chapter Fourteen: Slinn**

Phillip noticed the smell before I did - a stench of decay and filth and misery. We were approaching a valley between several low mounts - too large to be called hills, but nowhere near the gleaming, towering peaks that filled the western horizon. We were about ten days out of Narnia, still a little damp from recent rains. The land was fairly level and the Great River flowed slow and sluggish and muddy with churned up silt. This was the first time I had seen the clean water of the river to be fouled and I didn't like the implications of what might lie ahead. I gazed at our route, noticing many of the trees ahead were wilted or half-naked, their leaves brownish and limp.

"Phillip?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yes," was all he said, and I knew he didn't like this any more than I did.

I would have dearly loved to have found an alternate means of getting through here, but the river was our only path and who knew if the surrounding woods weren't worse? As we got closer the scene grew worse. Everything was dull and gray and miserable and barely alive. Phillip hesitated at the edge of the valley, tossing his head at the stench. With so few leaves we could see far enough, but the river took a sharp curve and I couldn't tell how long we had to go before we saw green again.

"On my back," ordered Phillip, and I didn't argue. I shifted Rhindon to my hip and mounted up, making sure there were plenty of arrows on the quiver hanging from his saddle.

"I'll trot," he told me.

"Good idea," I agreed. "Let's go."

It only got worse as we went. What could have cursed Nature so? I looked at the sickly trees and struggling undergrowth. There were no flowers or moss or lichens just the toughest of plants and weeds. No birds, no animals, no insects...just blight and that awful smell. Everything was crumbling and rotting away. It was quiet, too, because the river was so lazy and wide. I would have liked more noise to cover the sound of our passing. Phillip kept up a steady trot for some time until the path grew too rocky and he had to pick his way more carefully. His hoofs kicked up small puffs of gray dust until we were both coated with the the stuff. It had the consistancy of ash and stank as badly as the air and the river. The stones were all gray granite, but as we moved deeper into the valley I noticed the riverbanks became all sloping rock and here and there were long, discolored streaks. I had seen and smelled enough blood in the past year to recognize it when I saw it, dried or not. I felt a twinge of fear in my belly. This was not going to be pleasant. The blood wasn't fresh, but there was enough there and long enough that the rains hadn't washed the banks clean.

Despite the rocky path, Phillip picked up his pace without being asked. I estimated we were about halfway to the curve in the river. There was no way we could stop in such a place regardless of how long it went on.

Something in the corner of my vision seemed to move. I noticed it only because there was no other motion besides myself and Phillip. I glanced over, but it was gone. Not about to dismiss it - Oreius had taught me to trust my senses in such things - I let Phillip hurry us along as I scanned the surrounding woods, if woods they could be called. This place was more akin to a cemetery.

I spotted them on the far bank first. They were the strangest things I had ever seen and that included the revolting array of creatures that had fought for Jadis at Beruna. Hairy dragons? A cross between gray foxes and eels? They had long, sinuous bodies completely covered with gray down or fur. Their faces looked a bit like a fox with a ruff of fur out the sides, though the mouth was broad and flat like a snake beneath their pointy snouts. They had bulging, oversized yellow eyes and no ears that I could see. I couldn't even tell if they had feet and legs, but if they did they were short. Their gray fur perfectly matched the granite and the brush, and I realized with a sinking feeling we could have already passed many of them without seeing them, and the valley as a whole stank so badly not even Phillip would have noticed them. There were three or four of them, the smallest about my size, the largest three times that. They lifted their heads like snakes, wavering as they sharply watched us pass.

"Phillip?"

"I see them."

"Do you know...?"

"No. But they _are_ across the river."

His optimism wasn't catchy. "I'm just worried about what might be on _this_ side."

That picked up the pace even more.

The things across the river began to make a keening sound. It was eerie to say the least, but I knew what they were doing. My endless classes in tactics and the art of war stood me in good stead and I silently bless Oreius and his sometimes harsh teaching methods.

"Don't look," I ordered. "They're trying to panic us. There must be some close by to ambush us. Slow down, Phillip."

He didn't obey immediately and I yanked the reins back because he was starting to rush headlong. That abrupt motion saved our lives because he stumbled almost to a stop just as one of the large creatures dove down from the slope on the left, directly on the spot where we would have been. It smacked face-first into the ground and let out an angry hiss that sounded like: "_Slinn!" _

"GO!" I screamed to Phillip and I actually whipped his flanks with the ends of the reins as hard as I could. He surged forward, leaping over the hairy gray body before the thing could recover. Furious, wailing keens and growls erupted from the hill on the left and across the river as more of these Slinn-hissing monsters realized we had made it past their ambush. I had no idea if they were intelligent or simply possessed a pack mentality when hunting, but they understood well enough that we were going to be harder to catch than anticipated.

There was a splash of water like a large rock falling into a pool and I realized the Slinn across the river were swimming over.

"Phillip, we're going to have to fight them," I panted.

He let out a terrible neigh and I knew he was terrified. I couldn't blame him in the least. He had not fought in the Battle of Beruna, nor had he been engaged against the remnants of Jadis's army when Edmund and I had been trapped at the Stone Table early this past spring. I was looking for a likely spot to defend and only then did I realize we had rounded the bend in the river. More of this hideous valley, even deader and more blighted than what was behind us, spread before us. Still, the area was a bit higher and relatively free of rocks. The trees were far enough away that the Slinn couldn't use them for cover.

"Phillip! Here! Stop!"

"No!" he screamed.

His options were taken away, however, when the three Slinn that had been across the river drew their long bodies up onto the bank in front of us, blocking the path and making a menacing clicking sound. The looked more like snakes with their fur plastered against their bodies. Snakes with fox faces. Phillip screamed a Horse's scream, that hideous sound, as he slid to a halt. He circled nervously as I yanked the bow out of its case and notched an arrow. I shot the nearest, biggest Slinn, landing the arrow deeply into its side. Clearly they had thin hides and soft flesh because I was not nearly as strong a shot as Susan. It was effective - the Slinn screamed even louder than Phillip, shocking the Horse into silence. My next arrow missed because of Phillip's nervous pacing, then I dug my heels into his sides painfully to brace myself and let loose another shaft. I was aiming at the throat of the next Slinn, but it shifted at the last moment, curious and confused about its writhing fellow, and the arrow planted itself almost to the feathers deep into its huge eye. It screamed and raised itself up high, smashing down across the third and smallest one. I would be revolted later at the spurt of blood and gore. I barely had time to stow the bow and draw Rhindon as the Slinn chasing us from behind caught up. I yanked Phillip around to face them and kicked him into a charge right at them. They were surprised to see their would-be dinner on the attack, and all but the largest of them scattered. Three more Slinn faced us now, slinking around and trying to get close enough for a bite.

One learned a serious lesson as Rhindon, swung upwards in a wide arc, gave it a long, shallow cut all the way up its neck and jamming for a moment under its jawbone. I rose in the saddle to stab upwards and the creature went berserk. As I concentrated upwards, Phillip stamped and trampled a smaller one at his feet. It screamed and gnawed at his leg, but the good Horse landed heavily on it with both front hooves and the creature stopped moving. I was still standing in the saddle and I reversed my grip on Rhindon, swinging the blade behind me as I had once seen Oreius do and straight into the side of another Slinn's neck. It wasn't nearly as large as the first one and I sliced its head almost off. Hot, stinking, black blood splashed me, burning and salty.

I looked around wildly, but the Slinn were more cautious now, and many were sniffing at the corpses of their own fallen.

"Get past the dead ones," I ordered Phillip, gathering the reins in my left hand. I swung at the third Slinn, but it darted out of range, then circled round and swallowed whole the body of the one Phillip had crushed.

That was enough for me and more than enough for the Horse under me. Phillip took off at a dead run, trampling two more little Slinn that couldn't get out of his way quickly enough. More screams of "Slinn!" erupted from underfoot and the rocks were slippery from gore, but Phillip kept his footing as he charged towards the bodies of the first three killed. I kept swinging Rhindon, doing what damage I could, right up to the moment when he gathered himself to jump. I moved with him as I had been taught, leaning far forward and keeping my sword up and away from him. I felt Phillip's front hooves clip the pile of dead Slinn, but he had so much momentum it didn't matter. He crushed another Slinn as he landed, so numerous were they, but we were no longer on the menu, it seemed.

They were swarming over the dead and wounded, screaming and hissing and fighting as they tore at the corpses and the living. I risked one glance behind, then concentrated only on escaping from this hell.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We were attacked twice more. The next time, an hour past the first ambush, was by a trio of small and inexperienced Slinn. I shot one with an arrow and mortally wounded another with a thrust of my sword before the third smacked into me with its head and unHorsed me. Phillip came to the rescue, holding the Slinn at bay until I recovered enough to grab my sword and run the awful thing through. The last time the Slinn was alone, old, and slow and despite its size I killed it easily enough once I realized it was blind in one eye. That last one stank tremendously and I realized the Slinn themselves were the source of the stench and pestilence in this valley. Any of the creatures that had been pursuing us were immediately distracted by the dead. Phillip never slowed to less than a trot despite his fatigue and it wasn't until evening, as the moon rose full and yellow and bright that we saw leaves on the trees again and caught a whiff of fresh, clean air.

We still didn't stop. Phillip said nothing, but I knew he couldn't get far enough away from that nightmare of a valley. Finally I halted him several miles past the valley and slid off his back. I had no idea how much distance we had covered today, but it was tremendous and we would pay for it tomorrow. At least we were safe and alive. We were both filthy, but that would have to wait for the morning light. I had no doubt about one thing: we could not pass this way when we returned. Neither of us would ever be up to facing those hideous monsters again. We would have to find an alternate route. I put my arms around Phillip's sweaty neck and held him tightly. Head drooping, he sighed in relief and exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he whispered.

I drew back. I was trembling as reaction set in upon me and my voice rose in a squeak. "Whatever for, Phillip?"

"I panicked. I would have run right into them. You saved me."

"And you saved me."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm sorry for being afraid. I'm not equal to your bravery."

"Phillip!" I exclaimed, aghast that he would think so. "Phillip, you've never been in such a situation before. I have. There's no shame in being afraid. Besides, I've been training non-stop for the past year to deal with such things, not you. But you got us free and you killed I don't know how many of them. Actually, I should apologize to you."

"Me?"

"I whipped you."

He blinked, his ears coming sharply forward. "You did?"

"Yes! Fine king I make, whipping my brother's dear friend and our loyal subject!"

He nudged me with his nose. "It's nothing, King Peter."

"And so is the fact that you were afraid." I rubbed his soft muzzle and brushed his forelock out of his eyes. "You think I wasn't?"

"You didn't show fear."

"Oreius won't let me show it, but trust me, it's there." I turned and we slowly walked. I wanted to cool him off slowly and if we stopped now he could become ill. I checked the river and it seemed clear enough, so we each took a small drink. I talked as we walked, for it was important to me to relieve his guilt and lift his spirits. "You know Ed and I share the same room?"

"He's said as much."

"We have a whole vast palace to live in and we still share the same bedroom. Did he ever tell you why?"

"No."

"I'm not surprised. It's because I'm afraid, Phillip. Ed and I have shared a room all our lives. When we first moved into the Cair I couldn't sleep. I would wander the halls at night and annoy the servants and Bats because I couldn't sleep alone in my room. Finally Edmund got fed up with it all and one night he ordered Martil to move his things into my room. I slept better that night than I had since we came to Narnia. We all have our fears and ignoring them doesn't make them any less real. All I needed was to hear Edmund breathe and to know he hadn't died at Beruna."

"And now this," he said quietly. "Have you slept since?"

"Only since Aslan arrived."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We walked until I could go no further and Phillip was safely cooled down. The camp I made was a hasty one. Phillip tore up a few mouthfuls of grass but I had no appetite. I was too tired to do more than give the Horse a quick rub-down, then curl up under the blankets. For the first time since the anniversary, I fell asleep before midnight.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Princess of War Drobe

Autor's note: I don't know them name of the song I used here, nor the writer, nor the year it was written. It's just something I learned from my sister as a child and it suited the story perfectly. The second song, "Long, Long Trail," is public domain and dates back to the Great War.

**Chapter Fifteen: _The Princess of War Drobe_**

Riding atop Phillip's back as we followed the river was not so very stimulating for the most part and despite the urgency of our quest, we both understood that we had a long way to go and no notion of how long it was going to take to get there. Boredom was inevitable. Beautiful as the setting was, there are only so many magnificent mountains and shimmering waterfalls and pleasant glens and stately trees one can see before they all start looking similar. From the first, to pass the time, quite often we'd talk of Narnia's history, tell stories, play word games, or simply sing. Singing gave me new appreciation for an old Narnian saying I'd heard out of both Tumnus and Sir Giles: _Never burden a Horse with a song._

Translated for the unknowing, it's simply a warning that Horses, for all their strength and grace and intelligence, cannot sing. Their throats are simply not designed to hit or hold notes. After a few days I suspected Phillip couldn't carry a tune if it was placed in a saddlebag, but he tried. Despite his complete lack of ability, he did teach me several songs I sang in the equine fashion ever after, making them rather mono-tone and dependant upon the rhythm of a Horse's gait, though I did tend to hit more notes than he did. They were more like chants and I grew very fond of several of them, especially one about a legendary Horse named Heyden, who outran a hurricane in order to warn the inhabitants of Cair Paravel. Among our many studies to be kings, Edmund and I were learning to sing (which he hated and I enjoyed) and so I was better equipped to carry a marching tune than Phillip was as we made our way. All I had to do was call out the beginning of the song, _"Heeeeyden! Heyden ho and / Foal of the mighty stallion Shaze / Race from the river / To the ocean's waves_," and Phillip perked up his ears and picked up his pace. We soon settled upon a dozen or so favorites and Phillip would match his gait to mark the time whenever I sang, joining me whenever the song was within his range.

One favorite of his, though, was not Narnian at all, but something Susan and I had learned in school back in Finchley. We had been at a celebration - I'm not sure what we were celebrating, but it really didn't matter in Narnia. It may even have been the time some residents in the palace were celebrating having nothing to celebrate. Honestly. Irregardless of the party's motivation, Tumnus begged us for a song from Spare Oom. The only thing I had been able to think of was something made popular by the war at home, _Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree, _when thankfully Susan remember the simple old tune. We didn't even know the name of it, but it was something the Narnians could understand and we could remember in total. The song appealed instantly to the Narnians and they were thrilled when we all sang:

_There once was a king who lived o're the sea,  
Bow down, derry dum dee,  
There once was a king who lived o're the sea,  
And bow down derry dum dee!  
There once was a king who lived o're the sea,  
and he had daughters one, two, three!  
I will be true, true to my love,  
O if my love will be true to me!_

_One day they walked down by the water's brim,  
Bow down, derry dum dee,  
One day they walked down by the water's brim,  
And bow down, derry dum dee!  
One day they walked down by the water's brim,  
The eldest pushed the youngest in!_ (Here the Narnians laughed so hard we almost couldn't continue).  
_I will be true, true to my love,  
O if my love will be true to me!_

_O sister, O sister, pray lend me your hand,  
Bow down, derry dum dee,  
O sister, O sister, pray lend me your hand,  
And bow down, derry dum dee!  
O sister, O sister, pray lend me your hand,  
And I will give you both house and land!  
I will be true, true to my love,  
O if my love will be true to me!_

_I'll neither lend you my hand nor glove,  
Bow down, derry dum dee,  
I'll neither lend you my hand nor glove,  
And bow down, derry dum dee!  
I'll neither lend you my hand nor glove,  
Unless you promise me your true love!  
I will be true, true to my love,  
O if my love will be true to me!_

_So into the river the maiden swam,  
Bow down, derry dum dee,  
So into the river the maiden swam,  
And bow down, derry dum dee!  
So into the river the maiden swam,  
Until she came to the miller's dam,  
I will be true, true to my love,  
O if my love will be true to me!_

It was silly, it was nonsense, and it was instantly circulated throughout the kingdom. It appealed to our subjects on so many levels - love, loyalty, humor, and royalty all rolled into one sprightly tune that was easily remembered. In later years I heard many verses added on to it until it reached epic proportions and dances were made specifically for the tune. Eventually it ended up being known as _The Princess of War Drobe_ and, after much trial, tribulation, and heartache, it always ended happily no matter which version of it was sung.

But that was in the future and all the times I sang it for Phillip on our journey west it always ended with the princess still in the river. Most Narnian songs are based on fact and our subjects simply assumed this was an actual story from Spare Oom. Having abandoned all attempts to explain our background once again, we all just agreed that it was and Lucy named the poor, waterlogged princess Annette. In a moment of perversity, Edmund had volunteered all sorts of outrageous details gleaned from fairy tales and Arthurian legends until the Narnians were fairly convinced Spare Oom was even more magical and enchanted than their own land.

Phillip requested it almost daily and I gladly sang for him. It helped to lift our spirits and reminded us of home. There was a second song I sang for him, one he loved dearly since I gradually converted it to the equine style of singing so he could join in. I remember learning it on my grandfather's knee, a whistful song of hope and longing for better times. It had been written during the coflict that served as prelude to the war ravaging my home a world away. It fit as a marching tune for this quest, since my only dream was to get home with the apple and save my brother. I knew I was fighting the good fight, as my father and grandfather had before me.

_There's a long, long trail a winding into the lands of my dreams, _

_Where the nightingale is calling and the white moon beams. _

_It's a long, long night of waiting until my dreams all come true _

_'Til the day that I go wandering down that long, long trail with you! _

I understood better than I ever had before _why _they had both left their families and gone off to war, and I knew I would do the same. I _had_ done the same.

And I would do it again.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Further Up, Further In

**Chapter Sixteen: Further Up and Further In**

The sun shone down gloriously bright and warm the first day of the month of Twirleaf or September, depending on which species of Narnian you asked. I preferred Twirleaf simply because it described what was happening when the autumn breeze kicked up. Most of the names of the months in Narnia made good sense that way. The valleys had grown deeper as we moved further inland and the mountains had grown higher and mightier. They cast vast shadows that chilled me, and not just because they blocked the sun. I could see snow and ice above the tree line, and the further up the river we went, the lower the tree line got. I was grateful for the warm clothes Silvo had packed. I would need them all before long.

Though we walked far every day, our actual progress was slow, or so it seemed to me. The river wound and twisted through the mountain valleys and waterfalls were becoming more common. Those were annoying since they took so long to traverse and after all that labor of struggling uphill we had to show for our efforts was a pretty view. And it was pretty, that I could not argue despite the urgency of our quest.

We had seen many strange sights and animals that did not live in Narnia: moose and turkeys (after many attempts I shot one of those and it fed me for days), small red deer, musk ox, beautiful, shaggy white goats that watched us from high on the mountains. I saw a pack of silvery wolves and many types of birds that neither Phillip nor I could put a name to. I almost stepped on a porcupine, and though Phillip assured me we had them in Narnia I could not recall having met any. Migrating ducks filled the river on occasion and when they did, I ate well. I spotted what I thought could only be a wooly mammoth, for nothing else I knew fit the description of what I saw, but it was very far away and I never saw one again and Phillip was too busy eating to notice. The trees, too, were different this high up from the oaks and maples and firs of Narnia. Up here grew pines and huge cedar trees that filled the breeze with their scent. There was an occasion when we came to what looked like a smooth plain, and it was only upon approaching that we saw the valley before us was deep and wide, but the towering conifers were so tall they rivaled the mountains. Once we passed what could only be described as a ruined temple carved into the living rock of the mountains. It was huge - far too huge for mere humans - and Phillip said the crafting of the broken pillars looked Giantish, though I had no idea of what constituted style for Giants. Why it was built and by whom I never learned. Another time we watched a lightning storm the likes of which I had never seen sweep down along the course of the river. We sheltered in a cave uphill as torrential rain fell just yards away. Phillip, who disliked thunder, stood far back in the cave while I watched a tree get struck by lightning and burst into flames, only to be quenched moments later by the rain. Across the valley I could see mud slides rushing down like avalanches, wiping out trees and rocks and leaving only a wide, barren swath of earth like scars on the mountainside. It took moments like that for me to realize the wisdom of Aslan in sending me with just one companion. More people would have compounded the danger and slowed us intolerably, as well as being a tremendous strain on the land.

At night the stars seemed closer than even in Narnia. They hung low and bright over the mountains and I would pick out the ones I had been taught as I gauged the stages of the moon to mark the passing of days. It was almost a full month since we had set out. I wish I knew how to estimate how far we had come and how far we had to go and thought perhaps I could learn to use a sextant once we started a navy. I missed everything in the world that I knew except Phillip and Rhindon. Sometimes I drew out one of the handkerchiefs Lucy made just to catch the faint scent of lemon and lavender sachet that lingered from her dress, or the essence of rose that had rubbed from Susan's fingers onto the felt as she embroidered it. I showed Phillip all the gifts my siblings had made me and he was duly impressed by them all, especially the knife from Edmund. I couldn't help but smile every time I noticed each present and they comforted me even more than I wanted to admit.

I was noticing changes about myself, too. I was stronger than I had ever been, my endurance gradually building. It was a different kind of strength than what I had acquired since coming to Narnia. I had walked so far for so long I sometimes felt I could go on forever if I had to in order to find the Garden. The most annoying change was my hair. If I had thought about it, I would have had it all cut off before I set out. My hair has always grown very quickly and I had been due for a meeting with Silvo's shears even before the anniversary celebration. Now my thick bangs hung down in my eyes and I was constantly pushing them away. The only advantage I saw was that my neck was a little warmer. Beyond that, it was nothing but aggravation. I was starting to have trouble with my lower back, too, from all this riding and walking carrying a sword. Rhindon wasn't all that weighty but it was enough to throw my stride off slightly. I thought I had been used to it and I had been - for the amount of time I wore it at Cair Paravel. Finally, I had lost weight where I'd really had none to spare. I noticed it the first time I tightened Rhindon's belt and it easily went beyond the usual notch. My waist was reduced by a good two inches, and even I knew that was a cause for concern. Had Oreius been here he probably would have panicked, waiting for me to waste away before his eyes. I said nothing to Phillip, but I did try to take more game after that.

I was learning a great deal, too, sometimes by trial and error and sometimes the lesson was forced upon me. For example I learned to wait a good fifteen or twenty minutes after shooting game before I went to pick it up to allow the animal to die. The first time I approached a rabbit that I had just shot I was in for a shock because it wasn't dead yet. For some reason I had expected it to die immediately, and I was disturbed in the extreme when it moved and wailed and I had difficulty eating it that night. I also learned how to re-shoe a Horse when Phillip became mired in mud as thick as cement and one of his shoes pulled partially off. It took me the better part of a day even with his steady instructions. I was nervous lest I injure him or damage his hoof, but he was patient and in the end he had a new shoe. I also learned to sew, racking my memory of watching Susan and Lucy and their ladies gathered round the fireplace on winter nights plying their needles for reference. It was relaxing to watch, though the first time I tried it I wished I had paid closer attention. Still, I managed to repair a tear in one of my shirts and at a much faster pace than Susan could have managed.

The morning when we were exactly a month away from Narnia we came upon an unexpected sight: a lake. The trees parted gradually and we saw flashes of blue long before we stood on the shore. It was the first lake we had encountered, though Fledge's account did mention seeing several of them on his flight. It was very wide, mostly round, and as smooth and reflective as a mirror. The day we came upon it was crisp and clear and the mountains ringing it were perfectly reflected, and save for a few outcroppings of rock the trees grew right down to the water's edge. I saw an eagle wheeling over the far shore, his loud cry echoing faintly. All was still and calm and serene, like something out of a painting so beautiful you wished you could be part of it.

Phillip stamped his hoof as I slid off his back. "Could this be the source of the river?" he wondered.

I shook my head. "Fledge said the Garden was at the peak of a tall green hill in the middle of a valley, with a wall all about it and a golden gate. He mentioned lakes, but the valley with the garden was surrounded by glaciers."

"A thousand years past," mumbled the Horse.

I laughed and patted his side. "Let's keep going. The river has to flow in somewhere."

We slowly circled the body of water. No breeze rippled its perfect surface, no fish or turtle stirred the waters. Rushes and reeds grew along the edge, huge old trees reached right up to the shore. It was so still I was almost unnerved, remembering the time the rebel Trees had tried to capture me and Edmund at the Stone Table so the remnants of Jadis's army could kill us. It was as if nothing dared disturb the silence, myself included. I couldn't even bring myself to sing.

The longer we walked, the larger the lake seemed. I was growing quite weary and thirsty out of time, and finally I stopped. My mind seemed clouded and I could scarce keep awake.

"Majesty?"

"Phillip, I must rest."

He looked at me a little anxiously when I began to make camp. He clearly thought it was too soon but I felt as if we had been walking for days without a moment's sleep and my throat was as dry as the Great Desert. After I set up camp I removed Rhindon and set it by my things. Walking over to the lake, I dropped down on a rock jutting into the water. I stared, but I could not see beneath the surface. My own thin, tanned face with shaggy hair stared back at me. It was very strange and I reached a hand out to touch the surface. It seemed the least disturbance would send ripples across the whole surface, but the liquid barely noticed my invasive touch. A single ripple circled out and quickly vanished.

I reached down into the lake. It was cool and clean, but its nature never changed. My fingertip vanished as if into gravy. I leaned over to get a drink, my lips just touching the water, when suddenly I was being kissed from beneath the surface. My eyes shot open in surprise and I caught a flash of green eyes and yellow skin and flowing locks like seaweed.

_"Peter!"_ screamed Phillip.

Then a pair of slim arms wrapped around my neck and yanked me into the lake.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Lake King's Daughter

**Chapter Seventeen: The Lake King's Daughter**

I sat on the stone chair between the Lake King and his beautiful daughter and watched silvery fish of all sizes swim this way and that to form shimmering patterns and shapes. The light was faint and I found seeing difficult, unlike my lady who clapped with delight at the show. Not far behind us musicians played their percussion instruments in a traditional tune as the fish danced. I listened, trying to pick out the rhythm and melody, but in truth all I heard were rocks of different pitches striking together. Why couldn't I hear the music?

I felt Lasa's eyes upon me and I faced her. Her smile faded as she saw that I was brooding yet again and she reached out and laid her small hand on my arm.

"Is something troubling you, my lord?" she pressed.

I gazed at her green eyes and the halo of green hair that floated around her pretty face. She had nothing but sympathy for me and my moodiness.

_Yes_, I wanted to say, _everything troubles me. If I am your betrothed why don't I know you? How did we meet? Why don't I look at you and feel love? My skin is pale and yours is yellow and you say we're of the same people. How can that be? Why can't I see clearly, and why isn't there ever enough light for me? You move so freely through the water, but it feels like all the weight in the world pressing down upon me and I struggle to move. The food is not to my taste, the music does not please my ears, I am a stranger among what you say are my people. Why don't I remember anything? Why is nothing familiar? What is my name?_

"I see sadness in your heart," Lasa cooed. She took my warm hand in her cold one. "I fear this enchantment weighs heavily upon you, my love." She brushed my hair behind my ear with her webbed hand, caressing my neck in the same gesture. "We will be wed soon, just as you wished before you ventured forth to battle the Kraken. Nothing but joy awaits us here in my father's realm. Let go this sadness, my lord."

I looked back at the dancing fish. "How did we meet, Lasa?"

She cast me an indulgent smile and giggled sweetly. We had carried out this conversation before. I knew we must have. When? Where? "We were raised together here in my father's court, of course. You are the only son of the Master of Currents and his consort, my father's cousin. We've been friends all our lives."

How long had my life been? How long had this _day_ been?

"It was only a few seasons hence that we realized friendship had turned to a deep, boundless love."

I sat back, trying to ignore the music. Why did I know this was wrong? Love? Marriage? Wasn't I too young for such things? But why would Lasa, Daughter of the Lake King, tell me an untruth? I tried to think, think back to a time before I woke up in this murky realm. There was nothing there, as if a wall had been built to keep my memories at bay.

Or confined.

"What is my name?" I asked, keeping my voice calm and mannerly. I knew to do that much, at least.

Her green eyes dropped and she sighed. "My love, until this enchantment is lifted, we Lake People cannot say your name aloud lest the Kraken hear and know you survived. They would do you and us greater harm."

"Spell it for me."

"Spell?" she echoed, puzzled. "An incantation?"

I stared at her, wondering. If I could spell, if I could understand letters, why couldn't she? Why was the notion of a written language alien to her yet natural to me?

"Tell me again why I can't remember the past," I said, forcing a smile as I changed the subject.

She looked at her mighty father, who patiently gestured for her to give me answer.

"Krakens, washed down from the lakes above by the winter rains, threatened my father's kingdom with magic and famine. Just days before we were to be wed, you lead our army out against the beasts. You fought a valiant battle and slew many of them, but the greatest of them cast a powerful enchantment upon you, making you forget everything you knew and loved, and poisoning your body and spirit."

But I wasn't Valiant.

The performance ended. Lasa clapped for the fish and their trainers. I frowned into the darkness. The entertainment seemed to have lasted forever to me. What was this place? I spread my fingers across my knee. No webbing, and no indication that they ever had been webbed. Was I enchanted? And If I was, by whom?

She stood up and playfully pulled me to my feet by both hands. When I stood up I was no longer in the amphitheater. I was in a garden on the roof of the underwater palace with no memory of how I had reached it. I stared hard at her and blurted out, "Are you sure you want to marry me, lady?"

Her expression and voice were sincere. "I love you, my lord, even if you can't remember me. I can remember enough for us both. We are in love. And you did seek my hand most ardently. I knew from the start you would not need to seek long. I am yours, and I have always been yours. For truly, who would want an unwilling consort?"

"The Night did," I said with a finality that startled even myself. In my heart stirred a vague, uncertain awareness. Light seemed to penetrate the lake deeply as Lasa gazed at me with a little frown on her face. For a long moment she said nothing. Where had the darkness gone? Whence this light? The water wasn't as deep as at the ampitheater, but it seemed night had given way to day in an instant. I felt anger growing in me. Something was wrong beyond her words. My concept of time was distorted. I wanted my memories and my senses back. I did not believe her anymore, and that pained me.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "What is my name?"

She gasped, looking at her father who stood nearby. I knew I was being unkind but I no longer cared. I knew things she did not, things that had no place in the Lake Kingdom. I had no place here.

Looking crushed by my turn to coldness, Lasa controlled her trembling lip and tried to gather herself. Calmed by her father's touch, she forced herself to give me a sad smile.

"Gentle lord, your words do me pain."

"I am not Gentle," I replied.

"You are distraught. Perhaps I push you too quickly towards marriage. Do not despair, my lord, for I have waited an eternity for your love, and I can wait another."

Despair.

Despair!

What did I know of despair?

_...If ever you come to despair on your journey, remember this moment, remember me, and that I love you..._

I turned away from her. Who had said those words to me? They rang clear and true in my mind. Why did I know them when I knew nothing else? What moment was I supposed to remember? Who was I supposed to remember?

_...And if I despair, I'll think of you and remember you love me..._

Who did I love? Not Lasa. I could never love her. She had…

_Despair._

...pulled me down here...

The loss of all hope was my saving grace.

…_remember me…remember you love me…_

Who are you?

…_and that I love you…_

_Aslan, do you love me?_

My own voice echoed in my mind.

Aslan.

"_Aslan!"_ I cried, remembering all. In one terrible and triumphant instant, the spell slipped away. I had been yanked under the lake by Lasa, overpowered, almost drowned, and finally enchanted so that I could live here with her, the last of the Lake People. She had stolen my memory and she had stolen me away from my life and quest and family for her own selfish ends. She was alone here in the lake and she wanted to keep me as her consort by means both magical and dark. Everything I had experienced and seen here was an illusion.

At the sound of the Lion's name Lasa and her father seemed to change. She was no longer the beautiful princess she had seemed. There was a harshness about her now, something haggard and unclean. I glared at them both, and under my hard look her father seemed to fade into the stirring currents until he was nothing more than a rotting tree trunk. All around me the trappings of the Lake Kingdom faded to murky shadows until we stood alone on a rock slimy with algae at the bottom of the lake.

"Return me to the shore, Lasa. In the name of Aslan, Son of the Emperor-Over-Sea, I command you free me now." I gazed at her sternly.

She flinched, then rallied herself and laughed. "This realm is mine, my lord."

"All of Creation is Aslan's and his Father's. And my name is Peter," I snapped. "You have no right to bring me here or to hold me."

"I have every right, for I do love you," she said, and in the saying she only seemed uglier to my eyes, and far, far older than I had imagined. Her golden yellow skin looked more like old ivory, uneven and stained. Her face became fish-like, pug-nosed and with tendrils like a catfish and I hoped to heaven I never remembered if I had ever kissed her. "Stay with me. I will give you a kingdom to rival your emperor's."

I stared, scandalized as she ignorantly invoked the Emperor himself. "You couldn't possibly. This is not love." I thought of Aslan and his boundless love, my family and our devotion to each other, Edmund and his possessive protectiveness. "Love is given, not taken. Don't make oaths by names you don't revere. Let me go, Lasa. By Aslan and the Emperor, _let me go_."

Her eyes, no longer so green but muddy and dull, narrowed sharply. She knew then and there I was not going to be held by any means. I didn't know if she recognized Aslan's name, but it clearly had an effect on her, and not a pleasant one. She grew uglier still, older and more twisted as the last of her enchantment eroded away leaving an ancient crone made bitter and angry by her loneliness and isolation.

"Begone, Peter," she hissed.

And suddenly I was drowning at the bottom of the lake.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Guilt

**Chapter Eighteen: Guilt**

Lasa hissed savagely, shoving me away from her before darting into the murky waters. Instantly I kicked off the green-coated rock beneath my feet, struggling for the surface. I could see light above, far above it seemed, broken and shimmering by the shifting, sullied water. The pressure was tremendous, especially against my ears and lungs. I kicked my legs as hard and fast as I could, clawing and fighting my way upwards with my arms. The surface never seemed to get any closer and it felt as if my lungs would burst. Cold seeped into my limbs, leeching the heat from my body and taking strength with it. I was losing this fight.

…_remember you love me…_

Edmund. He was waiting, probably not too patiently. He would keep his word, I knew.

And so would I.

It became a genuine battle, me against the cold water. Fury gave me the strength I needed to keep moving upwards and I refused to lose or give in. The light above was weak, but growing brighter. Weeds floated across my vision. I reached them. Passed them. I could see clouds. I could see the sun low in the pale sky above. For all my struggles the surface seemed no closer. My lungs could not bear the strain any longer and I gagged, swallowing water. I knew it had only been minutes but it felt like an eternity in this cold prison. I kept my sights upwards, fighting on.

_...think of me..._

_Aslan, help me._

A sudden current helped to propel me upwards. I should have broken the surface, but the water atop the lake was an unnatural texture. It was thick, like jelly, and I remembered touching it and not seeing my finger beneath the surface the day Lasa had snatched me away. Desperately, I pushed against it, my clawing hands ripping aside the strange layer of water. It oozed between my fingers as I thrust upwards, every muscle aching and desperate for oxygen as I panicked and struggled.

I burst through the top of the lake with a gasp loud and long. Panting and heaving, I gulped at the cold air, remembering how to breathe and getting my bearings. I was about a hundred feet from the nearest shore and I swam over, struggling to keep my head above the horrid surface. The water remained deep all the way to the very shore and I was utterly worn out with the effort of swimming through the enchanted barrier. It seemed to seal itself behind me as I crawled onto the land. I dragged myself out of that hateful lake and fell to the ground, panting and gagging and spitting up foul water. I was coated with the thick water and I scraped it away from my face. It seemed to melt away, leaving me drenched and shivering in the cold air. Finally I rolled over and looked about.

The surface of the lake was a mirror once again, not a single autumn leaf marred its perfection. Shuddering, I couldn't look at it any more and I turned my back on it. I had absolutely no idea of where I was. I crawled further away from the lake. The motion triggered the first wave of nausea and I vomited water and such foulness as I cannot describe. By the Lion, what had I consumed in Lasa's so-called court? I had no notion of what Lake People ate and after being sick to my stomach on and off for the better part of an hour, I had no desire to learn. All I knew was that humans couldn't survive very well on it. At least not this one.

With a groan and a hasty prayer of thanks to Aslan for helping me get out of the lake, I struggled to get up and move before exposure set in upon me. I needed dry clothes and food and a fire. I needed to find my camp and Phillip.

I hadn't made much progress - all of it noisy and clumsy as I stumbled from bush to tree to brush - when I heard the most wonderful sound: a shrill neigh. I looked around, but the sun had set while I was being sick and twilight cast odd shadows. "Phillip?" I called in a croaking voice, turning around with renewed hope. "Phillip?"

There was water in my ears distorting my hearing, but I could make out a faint sound. It seemed near and far, carried by the water and confused by my ears and disorientation. Hoof beats, then an excited shout of, "Peter!" and Phillip was there beside me, nuzzling my chest to reassure himself I was real.

Hearing my own name was like music, and I staggered forward and fell heavily against his neck. He was warm and dry and I hugged him with what little strength I had left.

"Are you harmed?" he pressed, smelling me for injuries.

"I feel sick," I said in all honesty. "And I'm very cold and hungry."

"On my back, my king. I'll step carefully."

The handful of mane I gripped was tangled and knotted, but I thought nothing more of it as I swung onto his back. I leaned far over, exhausted and miserable as he moved. I dreamed of a fire and food as he made his way 'round the lake. We traveled a little over a mile and I recognized the place with a shudder.

As I slid off his back I noticed the camp somehow seemed...wrong. Everything was in a haphazard pile under an overhang of rock a few yards up the slope from where I had set our equipment. I glanced at Phillip, but I could barely see him and so I walked up the slope and rummaged for dry clothes. I was shivering uncontrollably. Everything seemed a trifle damp, but anything was better than my dripping jerkin and tunic and leggings. I had to peel my unfortunate boots off my feet and I was surprised to see my feet and ankles were chaffed and raw from the leather. I set them aside to dry and dug out some socks. I must say that if Narnians know how to make nice clothes comfortable, they excel at socks. They were thick, warm, and soft and as I pulled them on my aching feet I felt at least a few of my problems lessen.

My hands were shaking as I pulled on an extra shirt, then I dug out my gloves and the fur-lined cloak Oreius had demanded I bring. I would have to thank the general, that cloak saved my life that night. Finally somewhat warm, I located some field rations and sat down on a log to eat. The food tasted off, but I ate anyway.

"Phillip," I asked through mouthfuls, "what happened to the camp? Why is everything moved?"

"It rained, sire. I moved what I could to protect it."

"Rained?"

"Twice."

I coughed raggedly. Finally I asked, "When did it rain?"

"The second time was six days hence."

"What?" I asked, a strange dread seizing me. I dropped the food from my hand, suddenly cold all over again as my heart raced.

"King Peter," said the Horse in a gentle, firm voice, "you have been in the lake for twenty-four days."

If I hadn't been seated I would have fallen. As it was I could only stare at Phillip's outline, horrified. "What?" I repeated. Even to my own ears my voice sounded flat and dead.

"It has been more than three weeks since you were snatched away."

Twenty-four days. Twenty-four nights. Twenty-four times Edmund was stabbed in the belly. All that time wasted, all that distance not traveled. Twenty-four days closer to winter. My family was waiting, expecting me to be gaining on the Garden every day and I had languished almost a month at the bottom of a cursed lake. Twenty-four days Phillip had been here on his own. My chest felt tight and I was having trouble breathing. I felt my face grow suddenly flushed and sweaty.

Alarmed, Phillip asked, "Majesty?"

My stomach heaved and I twisted away, vomiting again. I spit and coughed, tears in my eyes from the pain in my throat and head and belly.

"No," I finally groaned, shaking my head. "Oh, no, Phillip, that can't be! No! It can't have been more than a day! Two at the most!"

With a gentle touch he nuzzled the exposed back of my neck as I hung my head. "Peter, it is so. Look at the moon."

I reluctantly obeyed. We had left Narnia on the full moon and had arrived at this awful place exactly a month later. Looking at the night sky, I saw the moon waxing more than halfway to full. I felt sick and heartsore and utterly devastated at the nights of pain Lasa had inflicted on my brother. By Aslan, I should have known. I should have seen what was happening when I had grown so tired and thirsty that first day of Twirleaf. I should have figured it out sooner and forced her to let me go. I should have-

"Do not blame yourself, High King," Phillip interrupted my self-incrimination. I must have spoken aloud, or he knew me well enough by now to know what I would be thinking. "You were placed under a powerful enchantment. None could have fought it."

_...She cast a spell upon him few would have been capable of resisting, and when he ate and drank what she offered he was hers as surely as the Spear Head points to the north..._

Aslan's words about Edmund and the White Witch echoed in my mind. I've never had such exact recall and I wondered if the Lion wasn't answering my prayer. Perhaps he had known to answer it in Cair Paravel that morning before I departed. I wondered how much Aslan had said to me had depended on what _could_ happen. I would have to rethink every conversation I'd had with the Lion since he'd arrived at the palace.

"Put aside this blame. You hold your brother faultless in his betrayal. Think you he would assign you any blame for this delay?"

He was right. Wise and steady, Phillip was right and I knew it. I felt no better for this knowledge, though, and I took long, even breaths to calm my rebellious stomach. Edmund wouldn't blame me. Not at all. He would have known he didn't have to bother since I'd blame myself enough for all of us. Poor Edmund, if this was the slightest hint of what he felt. The guilt was crippling.

I forced my head up and looked at the Horse. This was not the moment to give in to my own guilt and frustration, because no matter how I vented, I would still be exactly here when I was done. I had escaped Lasa by Aslan's grace and I could not squander the opportunity presented to me. I was a king and a knight and even with only one subject before me I had to do my best to conduct myself as befitting my rank. Even if I were alone, it would change nothing and I still had to act accordingly. Swallowing, I rallied myself and stood up to pat Phillip's neck. It was very dark, but as the moon rose higher there was enough light to see. I began to gather my things, slipping on a pair of soft shoes that laced up the front like Roman sandals before strapping on Rhindon. I hesitated a moment when I was able to tighten the sword belt two notches past where it normally hung. This was not good, but I got back to work. There was nothing I could do about it now and I had other priorities.

"I'll groom you tomorrow, Phillip," I promised, throwing the saddle blanket across his back. I followed it with his saddle and I realized I wasn't the only one who had lost some weight. My voice was tight as I continued, battling for control of the emotion gripping me. "Are you up to moving now? We have to get away from here. I can't stay here. Don't let me get off your back. If I do, bite me."

He looked surprised but said not a word and I knew he would obey so direct an order. When everything was bundled hastily onto his back and in my pack I mounted up.

"I know the way," said the Horse, setting out. "I have circled the lake a dozen times."

"I'm so sorry, Phillip," I couldn't help but say. My voice betrayed the misery I felt.

"If we had been attacked and you were wounded, would you feel such guilt?" he replied.

I had to concede the point. "Not as much."

"You_ were _attacked, High King, and you have been wounded. Now that you are returned, we must continue. Abandon your guilt here, where it belongs."

I sniffed, trying my very best to keep the tears from flowing. For once I was almost successful.

"We will rest upriver," he said. "It is another two hours to the mouth of the river. Tomorrow you must hunt and as soon as you take game, you must eat. You weigh nothing, King Peter."

I had hoped he wouldn't notice, but I suppose carrying someone for hundreds of miles makes a Horse very aware of their weight. "The food wasn't very nice at the bottom of the lake."

"Tell me," he said, and I haltingly began to relay the strangeness that had befallen me: Lasa dragging me below, the enchantment, the strange passage of time, my struggle to remember who and what I was, her terrible lies and selfish deceit. I shuddered at the memory of the surface of the water, that gluey, viscous layer that I was forced to tear through and had almost drowned me. I knew that the sensation of the barrier would haunt for weeks to come, that and the thought of what might have happened. Oreius had always said my greatest fault was thinking too hard on what I couldn't change. It felt good to talk because it helped me understand better what had happened, though most of it was very sketchy. Phillip was duly impressed at Aslan's instructions on despair and Edmund's promise about the same.

"Praise be to the Lion and your brother," said he, and I silently agreed.

We camped a few miles upriver, just as Phillip dictated. He lay down on a patch of soft moss and I curled up beside him for warmth, drawing my cloak and blankets tightly around me. I tried not to blame myself, but as midnight edged nearer I felt tears slide down my cheeks as I thought of Edmund sitting on his bed without a tunic on, waiting for Jadis to take her revenge yet again, Aslan and my sisters sitting helplessly by.

I closed my eyes, giving in to my despair for a moment, letting it wash over and through me in order to be done. I looked up at the stars, at Culros and her many-pointed crown. I owed her thanks for helping to save me. Gradually, like the ebbing tide in the Eastern Sea, I felt my misery ease a bit, replaced by the knowledge that no matter what, I was loved and beloved by the people that mattered the most to me.

And so I slept.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Eating Crow

**Chapter Nineteen: Eating Crow**

Crouched behind a low bush, I carefully bent the bow, pulling the string to my ear as I gazed down the shaft of the arrow. Beyond the iron arrowhead I focused on a large, fat rabbit nibbling on some fading clover. Completely unaware of me, it contentedly moved from flower to flower. I drew in my breath and held it, about to loose the arrow-

"Ak! Ca! Ca! Caa!"

The rabbit darted away and took shelter in the brush. I looked up into the tree above me to see a huge, self-satisfied crow laughing at my expense. I glared at the obnoxious bird as it bobbed its dark head and cawed some more. This spot was ruined, so I picked myself and moved elsewhere across the field. We were three days away from the realm of the Lake King's Daughter and Phillip had refused to budge another step until I returned to our camp with what _he_ considered adequate food to stuff me full. Though I begrudged the time lost from our quest, I knew he was absolutely right. I was dangerously underweight and fighting a cough I feared might become pneumonia from being so long in the lake. I would do Edmund no good passing out for want of rest and food, especially in an area so rich with game. In turn, I ordered Phillip to eat grass until I got back, for he had ignored his own needs in those days I had gone missing and he needed to gain weight as well.

Not much later I was again concealed, this time behind the roots of a fallen tree, watching some gray squirrels chasing each other around the base of the trees. They weren't my favorite eating, but I wasn't about to be choosy and they made a good enough stew. I pulled an arrow out of the quiver on my back and notched it.

"Caw! Ca! Ca! Akakak!"

I was getting mad now. The crow had followed me and loomed overhead again, shifting from side to side as the squirrels scattered. I slammed the arrow back into the quiver and stood up, glaring hard at the bird.

"Caw! Caa! Caa!" he mocked and leered, well pleased with himself for spoiling my hunt.

I was hungry and tired and now I was being harassed.

"Caa! Ca! Akk!"

I felt my jaw tighten and I narrowed my eyes. A motion at the edge of my vision caught my attention and I saw a woodcock in the field. The crow lowered his head defiantly as I reached for another arrow. It was a battle of wills. I notched the arrow and pulled the string almost to my ear once again.

"Caw! Akkk!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

As it turned out, dressed, roasted, and seasoned with salt and a handful of wild garlic, crow was rather good eating. While a little stringy and tough, I wasn't so very picky at that point and the rule in Narnia was you ate what you shot while hunting regardless. I felt a certain vindication as I chewed, thinking the crow himself might be pleased that he made for a tough meal. I could think of a thousand sarcastic comments Edmund and even Susan would be coming up with to fit this occasion and I couldn't help but chuckle as I ate.

Phillip looked at me curiously. "King Peter?"

I had to put the bird down as I started to laugh aloud. It took me a good ten minutes to explain what 'eating crow' meant and how it applied to my dinner. Phillip finally caught on and exclaimed,

"Ah! I see! Like when Edmund said he put his hoof in his mouth!"

That set me off even harder and I all but rolled on the ground. Finally I managed to calm down enough to say, "Exactly! Say something stupid or thoughtless, and eat crow when you have to take it back or apologize. Only in my case, it's _really_ the crow that gets eaten."

Phillip laughed at that, understanding my meaning. I finished almost all the crow, then set to work on the woodcock. The rabbits I would save for tomorrow. Once I had eliminated my feathered nemesis, hunting had been a simple task. I had found some thistles growing in the field and I had peeled and roasted the stems and boiled the roots, finishing this feast with some half-dried, red-orange rose hips from a twisted little rose bush Phillip had spotted. I was craving buttered bread and sharp cheese, and I would have given almost anything for bacon and eggs right now. Most everything I dug up, while nutricious, tasted like dirt no matter how well I cleaned and cooked it. The only saving grace about this situation was that I knew it wouldn't last forever and once back in Narnia I promised myself I would eat bread and butter at every single meal for a month at least.

The next morning I nibbled on the last bit of crow as an experiment. It wasn't as good as last night's meal, and that just set me off laughing again.

"What they say is right, Phillip," I finally managed to explain. "Crow is best eaten warm."

He shook his head. Clearly he thought the bird had gone to my head, but it felt so good to laugh after struggling to deal with with the aftermath of the Lake King's Daughter. I couldn't wait to tell Ed and the girls this story, just because I wanted to hear every snide, sarcastic, and biting comment they could come up with about their older brother the High King eating crow.


	21. Chapter Twenty: Still Waters Run Deep

**Chapter Twenty: Still Waters Run Deep**

"What is that, Majesty? Is it a cairn?"

I craned my neck up at the monstrously huge slab of stone resting atop four smaller stones, trying to remember the name for the structure. It was an elegant and primitive construction, so remarkably balanced it needed no ornamentation to make it a thing of beauty. I was reminded of Stonehenge, though this seemed far simpler.

"No, not a cairn. I can't remember the name for it, Phillip, though we have something like this back in Spare Oom. They're very ancient in my world and usually they were tombs and covered by mounds of earth."

Phillip could have easily stepped under the capstone with me on his back and I would not have needed to duck. It was very impressive, enough to make us pause to admire it.

"I wonder who built it," I said.

"Giants, perhaps," said the Horse. "It is very interesting, do you not think so?"

"Very. Maybe we'll see more."

But we didn't. The Great River lead us through the valley of stone in a winding path. We had come upon the stone tomb in a small gorge that was strangely barren of life. The rock here was yellowish and dull and jagged, spreading out far from the riverbanks until it reached a line of scrub pine of some sort and some cedars that looked disappointed with their lot in life. It was cold and windy here and we didn't stop for long, not even when I shot a hare. The chill weather blowing off the mountains stirred us both to press on. We had lost almost a month's travel and we had to make up as much as we were able.

Immediately past the gorge the vegetation was more plentiful and the water opened up to a wide pond, the first of many such small ponds we would pass by over the next few days. By now Phillip had a theory about me and open bodies of water and in his opinion they couldn't be trusted by me. I wasn't to blame, the lakes were. Whenever we came upon a lake or pond or pool or overgrown puddle I was made to mount up and he sped past them no matter the situation so as to spare the denizens of the lake whatever magnetic draw scrawny, blond, Narnian kings might emit. He had informed me that in Narnia lakes were a rarity and after much deliberation and more wracking of my tired brain, I was forced to agree, not being able to name a single one off the top of my head. Most water in Narnia was moving, and Phillip said Divine Waters that stood still were not to be trusted since it was water's nature to always flow somewhere else. I relayed to him the old saying of still waters running deep and he just took it as more proof for his theory that any water that would remain in place had problems beyond our ability to address. I didn't argue. He had lived here all his life and I didn't know enough about the subject to debate. In all honesty, I wasn't too keen on venturing any closer to the lakes myself. I was still haunted by the uncertain memories of my time beneath the lake with Lasa and the feel of the barrier over the water. I never did figure out if she had set it there to enchant unfortunates like me or if it was set in place by an outsider to confine her.

But today, here on the shore of this pond, we paused to rest a few moments. I was hoping to spot a last few cattails to eat with the birds I had shot, but the reeds were too dry and the roots were beyond hope. I was going to once again just eat whatever greens I found. I was genuinely tired of plantain even though its taste was inoffensive. I pulled out a few rose hips from the saddlebag and gnawed on them with a grimace. Eating flowers was worse than eating weeds. Beside me, Phillip industriously grazed on the long, tough grasses.

I piled up a few rocks, trying to recreate the tomb we had seen in miniature when the word struck me. "Dolmen!" I exclaimed, producing a puzzled look from the Horse. "The rocks we saw in the gorge. That's a dolmen."

"Ah," he said, thoroughly unimpressed. I smirked at him and cast the stones of my own tiny dolmen into the pond one at a time. The ripples faded quickly and I looked down, dusting off my hands and pulling my gloves on again as I stood to stretch. I hesitated. My senses told me something was different, though I didn't register a threat. Then I looked up.

A large, black sea serpent was looking right back at me. It had risen silently out of the water and it stared at me with as much astonishment (and far more confidence) as I stared up at it. Later on, when I got over the initial moment of fear, I realized it was quite a pretty creature, rather like a seafaring Chinese dragon with flippers instead of claws and bright, intelligent, green eyes. Its mouth was slowly chewing a great hank of plant life torn up from the bottom of the pond.

I had no voice, so startled was I by the sudden and noiseless appearance of this creature. Phillip munched away at the grass, his tail towards the water, blissfully unaware that we had a visitor. Luckily the sea serpent seemed completely uninterested in doing us any harm as it waited and watched and ate.

Not knowing what else to do and rather floored by its size and grace, I bowed.

The sea dragon stopped chewing and seemed greatly surprised, then it bowed back, inclining its large head and closing its eyes as it bent. I reached for Phillip, trying to get his attention, and finally I looked away for a moment.

When I looked back, it was gone.

"Phillip!" I squeaked. He looked up immediately and I waved towards the pond. "You missed it! There was a - a - I don't know! Some kind of sea serpent! It was all black and looked like a dragon gone swimming."

He stared at the smooth water suspiciously. I was too excited to stop ranting.

"It was eating plants and it seemed to want something so I bowed and it bowed back and when I looked away it was gone! What do you think?"

"I think we should leave. On my back, King Peter."

I made a face. "It was eating plants, not limbs," I muttered as I obeyed. Some things weren't worth arguing over, king or no. Phillip immediately set out at a brisk trot. I couldn't resist a look back at the pool. To my delight I saw no less than three of the creatures silently watching us leave. I smiled and bowed again as best I could on a moving Horse. All three of the dark creatures ducked their heads, graceful as swans.

I said nothing to Phillip, not wanting to cause him any more worry, but I smiled for the rest of the day.


	22. Chapter TwentyOne: Vow

**Chapter Twenty-One: Vow**

"Can you make just a little further, Phillip?" I asked, hurrying back to him along the trail. "There's a small dale up ahead that's very green and out of this wind. We can rest easier there."

He didn't lift his head, sure indicator that he was in pain. "I can make it, Majesty."

I nodded and pulled the saddlebags off his back, throwing them over my own shoulder to spare him the weight. He limped on, favoring his right foreleg. I hoped it was nothing more than a pulled muscle but I couldn't be sure. We had been picking our way through a rocky gorge no more or less remarkable than all the others we'd picked our way through on this quest when Phillip's hoof slipped on the rain-slicked stone. He hadn't fallen, but I had been thrown. I did my best not to let him see that I was a mass of bruises and scrapes and that I had rapped my head sharply on the ground. Phillip had righted himself, but now he was limping.

The drizzle of rain stopped as we entered the sheltering trees. This patch of green wasn't very large, but clearly it was well situated because it was guarded from the cold and wind. A small stream, a tributary to the Great River, ran through the vale, collecting in a deep pool before rushing out to join the mother river. Trees and grass and plants such as we had not seen for weeks grew in the little valley, a little slice of a more temperate zone here in the mountains. It seemed an oasis in the desert.

I had already scouted out a warm and level spot for our camp and I lead Phillip there. Beneath the evergreens thick enough to divert the rain I pulled off the saddle and bridle and looked to his leg. His cannon and ankle were swollen and he assured me he would be fine in a few days if I could keep the spot cool and clean. I followed his instructions for making a poultice and I bound the soft, cool mass to his leg with one of Lucy's handkerchiefs. I brought him water in the cooking pot, making six or seven trips back and forth to the stream until his thirst was satisfied. He was content to graze on the plants within reach while I explored a bit further afield, hoping for a bit of variety in the edible plants. I was very happy to find some arrowheads growing by the pool and it was worth being cold and wet to root up some of the starchy tubers however tough they may be. I also found some nettle and sorrel, neither of which I actually liked but I would eat anyway.

It was on my way back to the camp with my treasures that I found the strange little bush growing in a clearing. It wasn't very large, no bigger than an apple tree, with dark brown bark and rounded leaves that were thin and papery and the palest green. Hanging on it were small brown fruit that reminded me of dates in their appearance, though I had thought dates only grew on palm trees. Perplexed, I smelled one.

It smelled like toffee candy.

I stared, remembering Fledge's account of his flight to the Garden with Lord Digory and Lady Polly. He had mentioned a toffee tree in the valley where they had spent the night, grown on the first day Narnia was brought into creation from a piece of candy Polly had brought in her pocket. Glancing around, I saw more of the little bushes, some larger, some smaller, all with those papery leaves and heavy with fruit scattered about the clearing and up the slope.

Giving in to temptation, I plucked one, then nibbled on it. It was chewy and moist and tasted very much like toffee. I waited, but there seemed to be no immediate ill effects and I ate the rest of the fruit in my hand. I savored the flavor and sweetness and my senses seemed to rejoice at so much wonderful sensation at once. It seemed an eternity since I had tasted anything so delicious. I picked several more, noting the spot for a return trip, then gathered up the greens and arrowheads and returned to Phillip.

We lingered in this little valley two more days as Phillip's leg healed and I ate everything edible I could find, including such large amounts of the toffee fruits I gave myself an upset stomach. I slept remarkably soundly and it wasn't until the second morning, as I ground the leaves I'd gathered for a fresh dressing on Phillip's leg, that I realized that I was recovering from a minor concussion. I didn't mention anything to the Horse, he was fretting enough over time lost as he recovered. I reminded him that I held the record for days squandered and promised once he was recovered we could make up more miles.

The concussion, I believed, was the reason behind the extraordinary dream I had the last night in the dale.

I rarely remembered my dreams. They simply held very little interest for me. Edmund had been subject to vivid nightmares even before the war and I learned from his example not to be too curious about what went on in my mind at night. This dream was different from any I could recall simply because it seemed so very real. Every detail was perfect and it seemed more a vision than a dream, even though I was very deeply asleep.

_Aslan walked slowly down the halls of Cair Paravel, his huge paws making no sound on the thick carpets. Beside him, pale and thin, strode Edmund. He had one hand buried deeply in the Lion's mane. I knew it was night and Edmund was pacing in his anxiety, waiting for midnight to strike him down. Aslan watched him and I somehow understood that Aslan wasn't walking with Edmund just to comfort his fears._

_He was trying to keep my brother alive._

_In my dream I stepped closer to Edmund. He couldn't see or sense me, so consumed by pain was he. His eyes frightened me. Normally bright with unspoken sarcasm and insights, his dark eyes were dull and he looked like a worn down, defeated little boy, not a king or knight. I felt my heart break at the sight, and I reached out for him even though I couldn't touch him._

_Aslan's eyes seemed to linger on me as they passed by. I looked back at him desperately as Edmund paused, his free hand covering the area of the wound as he winced, a twinge of agony almost dropping him. He leaned heavily against Aslan. The Lion purred soothingly._

_"Aslan," asked Edmund quietly, "will Peter make it?"_

_I was crushed to hear doubt in his voice and I felt anew the crush of guilt over time lost with the Lake King's Daughter. I tried to speak, but in this dream I was mute._

_"I would not have sent him unless I had every faith that he would be successful."_

_Edmund sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I know. It...just...hurts," he admitted breathlessly. "I wish it would end."_

_I gasped, horrified at the thought that Edmund might be tempted to give up. He was one of the steadiest, strongest people I knew and I needed him in my life desperately. He must not give in. Not my stubborn, keen, unbearable little brother. I had never known him to surrender anything to anyone. _

_Until Jadis._

_I wanted to shout out to him, let him know I could see and hear him, beg him to hold on until I returned. I looked to Aslan, but at the moment the Lion's attention was on Edmund._

_"Do not despair, Edmund," whispered Aslan. "Know that he loves you and will not rest until you are freed."_

_"I miss him,"admitted Edmund in a small voice. He looked like neither warrior or king, but the sweet little brother that had so often crawled into my bed when he was frightened or cold._

_"And he misses you and thinks of you always. For his sake, you must endure and believe. Come. It is almost midnight. Your sisters are waiting."_

_Edmund sighed and turned away, Aslan moving with him._

I woke with a gasp. Darkness, the sound of the river, the wind in the trees, Phillip's slow breaths beside me. It was midnight, and I knew at this exact moment Edmund felt the stab of jagged crystal as the air was driven from his lungs and once again he fell, mortally wounded and praying for an end.

The pain _would_ end, but on Aslan's terms, not Jadis's.

So I vowed anew.


	23. Chapter TwentyTwo: Rhye

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Rhye**

For the first time in a long time the terrain changed from high mountains, deep valleys and rolling river to a wide, flat plain. It stretched for miles and miles, a sea of greenish-yellow grass dotted with small braces of trees with the Great River winding through in a wide and smooth and lazy serpentine trail. To the north rose a steep cliff hundreds of feet high. It formed a barrier for the plain, holding the mountains beyond at bay. I stared at it with weary resignation, wondering exactly how wide this world was and how long it would be before Phillip and I simply rode off the edge of it.

Phillip paused for a moment, then let out a Horse's huffy sigh. We neither of us were moved by the change in the beauty of the land, though we could make good time across such a prairie, perhaps even make up for time lost due to princesses in lakes and pulled muscles. Lately my feet and back were aching so badly I was having trouble walking my normal half a day. I tried switching from boots to the soft shoes for walking, but it made no difference. More than two months of heavy traveling in the cold and wet of autumn were taking their toll and I was reaching a state of total exhaustion no matter how hard I tried to deny and hide it. Phillip, older (in equine terms, anyway, he was actually nine years old), wiser, designed for walking and able to survive on grass was in far better shape. The enforced days of rest a week ago had helped a great deal, and while I can't say I gained any weight, at least I hadn't lost any more. I had gotten into the habit of wearing all the clothes I had brought in order to stay if not warm, at least not freezing. I couldn't remember the last time I had been genuinely warm. Not since leaving Narnia, really.

I nudged Phillip on and he set off at a steady, easy pace. He was trying to teach me another song and for some reason my tongue kept tripping over the chorus because it sounded like a series of neighs and whinnies. I suspected I'd never get it right, but it was something to do and my efforts made us both laugh.

Noon was approaching and we paused for a drink at the river. As Phillip wandered deeper into the cold water to sooth his leg, which I suspected wasn't quite as healed as he claimed, I took the time to wash my face, grimacing at the hair in my eyes. It felt as if my head was covered with thatch. I was tempted to take Edmund's knife and hack the lot of it off, but then I would well and truly look ridiculous. I studied my hands, chapped and red, and I noticed how thin they appeared. Catching sight of my reflection in a still patch of water, I thought how poorly long hair suited me, especially with so thin and sallow a face. I hadn't had a bath in ages, but I suspected that if I stripped down to my skin I'd be able to count my ribs. Wonderful. I was turning into a short, blond Marsh-Wiggle.

An echoing sound caught my attention and I looked up and around. There were no raptors or birds to be seen, though the noise seemed to come from on high. I scanned the cloudy sky, trying to locate the source of the noise when I heard it again. It came from the north, from the cliffs.

Phillip, now doubly paranoid when I was within a bowshot of water, moving or otherwise, stepped over and I mounted up. We continued westwards and I watched the towering cliffs. They were pale stone, pitted and gouged with what looked like natural caves and deep caverns. They were a striking contrast against the smooth, grassy plain, so barren and jagged and colorless.

The noise came again, louder this time. I looked up. To my utter surprise and awe I saw twenty or more horses high above us on the cliffs. I was wondering how on earth they got up so high and why, when one horse, a dapple gray, reared and leaped from the mountainside, plunging downwards towards the rocks below. I gasped, horrified, instinctively dragging on poor Phillip's reins, when suddenly the dapple unfurled huge silver wings on its back and skimmed over the river, riding the wind drafts as I has seen Birds and Gryphons do countless times. Another horse followed, then another and another until the air was filled with them and their shrill neighs. I sat atop Phillip in speechless amazement, dazzled at the sheer beauty of these creatures as they circled above us.

"By the Lion," breathed Phillip.

They were a sight no Narnian had witnessed in over seven hundred years.

"Phillip," I whispered, "they're..."

"Legends come alive," he finished far more poetically than I could have managed just then.

I had only ever seen images of Winged Horses in illuminated books and tapestries and a few of the older stained glass windows in Cair Paravel. No representation I had ever seen did them justice. They swooped overhead, their faint shadows falling across us and the grassy plain. Within moments they had spotted us from above. They called to each other and circled overhead. I finally stopped Phillip and dismounted to wait for them.

"Fetch Lord Pennon!" I heard one of them shout, and a few of the Winged Horses wheeled away towards the cliffs. Some of the bolder ones landed nearby, running to a stop before swinging around to face us. They were beautiful creatures and there was a gleam of intelligence and anger in their eyes. They promptly surrounded us, stopping any additional progress across the valley until Pennon arrived.

"What is it?" I heard one of them ask. Phillip rolled his eyes and I hid a smile.

"It's a horse," a mare replied, her voice high-pitched with excitement.

"No, the other thing!"

"Perhaps that's a Human!" another mare exclaimed. "Cloudburst says they used to ride horses! I saw it on the horse's back. Did you see it? I saw it!"

"Revolting," muttered the first speaker.

"Shh," I whispered to Phillip when he bristled. We could not affort to alienate them.

The boldest of the stallions took a few steps towards us, his wings held high and wide to make himself appear larger. He eyed me menacingly, clearly bent on intimidation, but having battled Minotars and Orknies and Ogres and Werewolves, a large, pretty, chestnut Pegasus did not inspire the fear he intended.

'What are you?" he demanded.

"A Son of Adam," I replied evenly, clearly startling him. I'm not sure what he expected, but he plainly anticipated my speech to be as barbaric as he thought I had acted.

"You enslave this horse!" he insisted, recovering his ire.

"No. This steed is my friend, subject, and beloved cousin, " I replied, using the endearment we always used for the Talking Animals and Magical Creatures. "He willingly carries me."

Many were offended at the notion that Phillip bore me on his back, though his saddle, bridle, and horseshoes greatly intrigued them, especially the younger ones, and I could hear their interested whispers. The chestnut stallion looked at Phillip then stretched his neck far out, sniffing at my companion.

"Do you mind?" snapped Phillip, stamping his hoof. "Where are your manners?"

It was almost comical to see the stallion back pedal in shock at hearing the Horse speak. All around us the Winged Horses let out scandalized exclamations.

"He speaks!" squealed one of the mares. "It's riding a _Talking_ Horse! How dare you!" she hissed at me, baring her teeth. All the assembled Winged Horses, joined now by their indignant fellows, turned angry glares on me, rolling their eyes and showing their teeth as well.

Phillip intervened and managed to shame them all. He stamed his hoof.

"You will not speak to my king in such manner!" the good Horse snapped, more furious than I had ever seen him. "And you will not judge my choice to carry him thus! You are ignorant – do not flaunt it!"

The Winged Horses were taken aback even more. One mare, her coat a beautiful yellow dun and her wings, mane and tail silver-gray, let out a long whinny I recognized as a laugh. She had tossed her mane at the others and approached us fearlessly. She had not spoken yet, and her voice was the typically shrill tone of a mare.

"I am Rhye of Pennon. What is your name and what do you wear on your hooves?"

Phillip was startled by her directness, but after I smiled – for Rhye was a lovely thing by equine or, indeed, any standards – Phillip said, "My name is Phillip Bwinny-hra and I'm wearing horseshoes."

This was the first time I had heard Phillip's full name. Talking Horses, I'd learned over the course of the last year, tend to name themselves. They're given a first name by their parents and as they age they keep tacking on more names they acquire or choose. The longest name I've ever heard took almost a full minute to recite and I was amazed to hear the Horse recite it three times flawlessly. Phillip, by comparison to most, had a remarkably short and conservative name for a Horse his age.

He engaged Rhye in conversation then, lifting a hoof so she could study the iron shoe and its function. They talked about everything but me and what we were doing in the valley. Rhye was the only offspring of Pennon, it turned out, and her sire was Lord of the Herd. She seemed to enjoy having an audience that didn't already know everything about her and she spoke long and rapidly. I kept still and quiet, letting Phillip talk and Rhye flirt. It was very sweet to see, but as minutes stretched into an hour and still no sign of the Lord of the Winged Horses, I decided Phillip could do with a rub-down.

"Well," I said to Phillip when Rhye finally stopped quizzing him, "we won't be able to go much further today anyway."

Working quickly and automatically, I unloaded the dwindling supplies from his back and lifted off the bridle and saddle. I dug through the saddlebag and pulled out a comb and brushes and began to groom him as I did almost every evening. The Winged Horses watched with intense interest as I brushed and rubbed Phillip down, taking my time and losing myself in the mindless task as I returned his dusty coat to its usual glossy sheen. I inspected his hooves and shoes carefully and then tackled his mane and tail with the comb. I'll admit I took more time than was necessary simply because our audience was so intrigued. While beautiful, the Winged Horses were wild and unkept and perhaps by seeing the result of a thorough grooming they might not think that having a rider was such a horrible thing after all. Throughout the process Rhye munched grass nearby, casually inching closer to see every detail.

"Would you like your tail queued?" I asked even though I had never seen Phillip wearing anything beyond the plainest trappings available.

Phillip, knowing full well what I was up to, played along. "Please, your majesty."

I combed his tail a bit more, then braided it in a tight queue, doubling the end over and braiding it back in upon itself. It wouldn't hold for long, but that wasn't the point. By now Rhye was overcome with curiosity, standing a mere two yards away.

"What is he doing?" she asked Phillip in her high-pitched voice when she could stand it no longer.

I hid a smile as Phillip snapped, "Why don't you be polite and ask him yourself?"

Her ears stood up sharply and she was taken aback, but only in that she realized she had been behaving rudely all along. With a little cough she stepped closer to me, head lowered to look me in the eye.

"Excuse me, Human-"

"_King Peter_," corrected Phillip in a hiss.

She blinked, clearly recognizing the title. "Excuse me, King Peter," she echoed, "but what are you doing to Phillip? And what did you do to his tail?"

"I'm grooming him," I replied. I picked up the curry comb. "I bushed him with these. They remove loose hair and dirt. This," I lifted another comb, "takes the tangles out of his mane and tail. I queued it so it wouldn't get tangled again. Would you like me to brush you?"

It was exactly what she wanted, but before her peers she didn't want to seem too eager. "Hmm. Yes, a little. Could you do somewhere I can see?"

"Hold still," I said, and began to brush her shoulder. She was quite dirty and I couldn't imagine the state of her tail, but I pressed on, knowing I needed allies here. Her shoulder gradually became her flanks and back and she lifted her silver wings to make sure I didn't miss an inch of her hide. Beneath the dirt and loose hair and occasional bug she was a beautiful dun color. Throughout the process she made comments of pleasure and peppered me and Phillip with questions and observations so rapidly we didn't always have time to answer before she was on to the next one. It took a long time, but time I had right then. I rubbed her down with a cloth and then smoothed the dust from the long feathers on her wings. She shone in the afternoon sun.

"Shall I check your hooves?" I asked, digging out the small hook I had used on Phillip's hooves.

She hesitated, and Phillip snorted. "Of course you should, King Peter. Rhye knows you will not hurt her."

She couldn't back down now and gingerly allowed me to inspect her front hooves. She had a stone lodged in one, which I carefully worked free. She was far more hesitant about allowing me to lift her back legs, but one contemptuous look from the Talking Horse and she huffed and let me proceed. She could have done with shoes, for her hooves were chipped, but there were no cracks and she seemed healthy enough.

"What of my tail? Can you queue mine?" she asked, all pretense of aloofness evaporated when she saw how lustrous her coat could be.

"It's very tangled," I warned. "It might hurt when I pull."

"I don't mind," she said, vanity overcoming solidarity with her herd. "I promise I won't kick you or even move, King Peter."

"Good," I muttered, not at all reassured. I glanced at Phillip and he gave me a pleased look right back.

Her tail was a mess of knots and matted hair and I was forced to cut out huge tangles. Her tail alone took almost an hour to sort out and braid. Her mane wasn't quite so bad, but Rhye was so excited and eager to see what she looked like it was hard to get her to keep still. She talked all the while, asking questions about the ocean and sugar and horseshoes and Narnia and what the Horses there were like.

When I was finally finished I stepped back, shaking out my sore arms. She was breathtakingly beautiful, all gray and fawn, Pegasus rendered in burnished silver and gold. In her delight she tried so hard to see all of her back and wings she turned a full circle, then gave a whinnying laugh and launched into the wind, tossing her head for the sheer joy and newness of having been groomed. She seemed to dance through the cold mountain air, brilliant against the sky.

"She's very happy," Phillip observed needlessly, stepping up beside me.

I laughed and hooked my arm under his head, pulling his cheek against mine. "So am I," I admitted. It was true. For the first time in almost three months, my heart was light again.

It didn't last very long.

When she returned half an hour later, Rhye had brought dozens more of her kind. Among them was Lord Pennon, and he was not in any way impressed by Narnia's High King.


	24. Chapter TwentyThree: Flight

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Flight**

"...and then we entered your valley, and you scared the daylights out of me when all your people jumped off the cliff."

"We frightened you?" Rhye exclaimed happily.

"Completely," I replied, speaking for myself and Phillip and laying it on a bit thick since it seemed to amuse her so. "I couldn't imagine what was so horrible that would make a whole herd of horses run off a cliff. But it was very surprising and beautiful when you all flew."

I could tell she was pleased at being called beautiful and I wondered if no one had ever called her that before. I added more wood to the fire, for the night was cold. Rhye watched everything with interest, gathering her energy before she started a new barrage of questions.

"What does a lion look like?"

I lifted Rhindon and showed her the hilt. "Like this. This is a lion's head. A male lion, I should say. The females don't have a mane like this. They all have long, smooth bodies shaped more like you than me. Their tales are long and bare except for a tuft at the end. Their legs are shorter and thicker and they don't have hooves. They have paws."

"Paws?" She found the word funny. "What's a paws?"

I spread out my fingers. "Paw. Like this, only broader. They can be soft as your nose when the lion wants, or they have claws sharper than this sword."

She sniffed at the ornate sword. "Are they all silver?"

"No. Mostly they're brown and gold. Aslan is all golden, with yellow eyes."

"I like the way you say Aslan," the mare abruptly said, staring into the embers of the fire. "It's different from how our storytellers say it or I say it. From you, it makes me want to run and fly fast and far on a cold wind. Say it again."

"Aslan!" I cried.

"Again!"

"Aslan." This time in a whisper.

She whinnied and shivered in delight and I laughed along with her. Phillip chuckled. She was charming beyond telling.

"Why do you say it so much better, Peter High King?" asked Rhye.

I leaned back against Phillip's warm side, considering. "Maybe it's because Aslan knows me so well." She shimmied her wings again on purpose at the mention of his name, just to make me smile. "He chose me and he blessed me and it's such an incredible and ... well, transforming thing for anyone to experience that I suppose you carry it with you."

"I would like to meet him some day."

"I think he would like that very much, Rhye."

She cocked her head, gazing at me with an assessing gleam in her brown eyes. Finally she said, "I think you'd have to groom me again before I met him, though."

"I will," I promised.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

When I awoke the next morning the sun was up, the dew was dry, and Rhye and Phillip were industriously eating the grass all around me. I sat up with a groan, my body stiff, looking at them as I tried to remember how to be alert and aware. They gazed at me with interest, their mouths full of grass and green foam.

"You should have woken me up," I muttered and yawned hard enough to split my face.

"Why?" asked the mare. "Phillip says you haven't been sleeping. So sleep."

"We have to get to the Garden."

"We will. It's not far, King Peter. Just over those mountains."

So casually she said that. Everything was relative, I told myself as I smiled and made myself stand. I was very tired. I had set a pace I would not be able to keep up with for much longer and fatigue was creeping up upon me. When it pounced, I would go down, I knew. Breakfast was cold hare and some oxalis and plantain greens growing within reach. My own comb was not to be found at the moment and I so I used Phillip's curry comb to straighten the mop atop my head. To my private horror I had enough hair hanging down my neck to tie back. Edmund would savage me for this. Finally I stood up and shook out the blankets, rolling them up and breaking down camp. I stacked everything by the saddle and turned to Phillip.

"You'll be all right here?"

"I'll wait exactly here," he promised.

I patted his shoulder and turned to Rhye, who seemed extremely excited for some reason. I smoothed her mane and said, "I have to get on your back. It might feel strange to be carrying me. Can you hold still a moment?"

She struck a statuesque pose, freezing in place. It was tight, but I seized a handful of mane and swung up onto her back with my legs snugly in front of her wings. She blinked and shifted a bit, then walked around to get herself used to carrying a person, stretching out her wings and flapping them experimentally..

"It's not so strange," she decided after a minute.

Philip, who stood a bit higher than Rhye, leveled a hearty glare at her. "Do. Not. Drop. Him."

"Hm." She snorted and tossed her head. "Don't wander off, Phillip," she countered brightly, "you might get lost. Peter High King, are you ready?"

I smiled despite myself. "Ready, lady."

The title seemed to please her and she turned, facing the plain. "Hold on!" she called, and started running.

I let out a loud whoop of anticipation and delight as she kicked off the ground and launched herself into the air. It would have been frightening if it wasn't so thrilling. The earth dropped away like a stone. Phillip galloped across the field after us, growing smaller and smaller as we ascended. He was the size of a dog, then a toy, then Rhye wheeled away as she caught the cold wind beneath her wings and I lost sight of the good Horse.

Huge, silver-gray wings stretched out wide on either side of me as she raced towards the west. I laughed and shouted at the sensation of being so high and moving so fast on the warm back of a living, breathing legend. I was the first person in over seven hundred years to see a Winged Horse and not since the dawn of Narnia had anyone ridden one. The sun beat down on us, its heat snatched away by the bitterly icy winds off the mountains. I didn't care. For this feeling, this freedom, I would have endured far worse. The miles melted under her wings as she angled ever upwards towards the tallest of the mountains, following the Great River. The ground rushed by, the mountains passing more slowly. She seemed to know the way and we saw none of her people, though at one point I spotted an eagle far below us. For an hour or more she flew, her mighty wings pumping, keeping us apace with the winds. No plants were visible now, just barren rock and ice and snow. Even with her claim that her people were not as mighty as they were in days of old I could easily see how Fledge flew this distance in a mere two days.

"Through that pass, beyond that mountain lies the Garden," she called loudly. "The glaciers ring it completely. You would not have been able to cross."

I gazed down. She was absolutely right. We were approaching a vast, thick sheet of ancient ice that draped and dragged on the mountain like a heavy cloak. She swooped low to show me and I let out another excited yell as my stomach seemed to drop at the sudden motion. I could feel the chill of the ice, a different kind of cold from the wind. She could sense my joy and she tossed her head, letting out a shrill neigh that echoed off the mountains. I held on tightly as Rhye put on a burst of speed for the soul purpose of hearing me shout with pleasure. We both laughed, and as she found a steady rhythm with her wings I recalled one of Phillip's chants to fit the long beats. It was very simple, the Horse equivalent of a nursery rhyme, and I called out loudly enough for her to hear:

_"Hey whinny high stride  
Hey whinny low,  
Hey whinny bide  
In the green field below."_

"What _is_ that?" Rhye shouted above the wind. She sounded as excited by the chant as I was by the flight. "What are you saying? How do you say it like that? What does it mean?"

"It's a song!" I called back. "Phillip taught me. It's to teach foals how to tell the seasons. Listen!

_Hey whinny north gust  
Hey whinny low,  
Hey whinny bring us  
Ice and snow. _

Hey whinny high stride  
Hey whinny low,  
Hey whinny bide  
In the green field below.

Hey whinny stars shine  
Hey whinny low,  
Hey whinny for the south  
Sun bends low.

And hey whinny calling  
Hey whinny low,  
Hey whinny falling  
Leaves do blow.

Hey whinny Horse runs  
Hey whinny low,  
Hey whinny seasons  
'Round do go!"

She listened breathlessly, and when I was done she seemed to shiver with emotion. I don't know if she even had a name for what she felt, but I realized she had never heard anything like it before in her life.

"Song! Song! It's a song! I _want_ that!" she cried. "I want that for my own! That's better than all the stories Cloudburst has ever told! Say it again!"

I obliged. By the fourth time she had figured out how to keep the beat with her wings and she had the words down. It was wonderful to be witness to her joy in the simple gift of music and it made me forget how frightfully cold I had become and how breathless the thin air made me. We sang it together twice.

"Teach me more!" begged the mare.

By the time we reached the last pass, she knew the words and pace of my converted version of "Long, Long Trail." I noticed she could hit more notes than Phillip, but she couldn't hold them any better. Whether that was because she was a Winged Horse or female I couldn't say, but once I explained what a nightingale was she was very satisfied with my song. It took a dozen tries for her to get it right and then we sang it together until she was satisfied. She learned it just in time, because even as she was getting the rhythm of the chant correct in her head we burst through the last mountain pass.

A ring of towering mountains surrounded the valley, glaciers nestled between them and filling the gaps. In the center of the valley all was green and lush, a vast plain of emerald grass. In the center of the plain rose a sharp, steep hill, crowned by a circular wall on top and encircled by a blue moat of water below. The warmth of the valley was amazing, given its altitude and the glaciers surrounding it. The glaciers, I realized, were the source of the Great River, constantly melted by the beautifully warm Garden in their midst. Rivers of ice converted to rivers of water that brought life to Narnia hundreds of miles away.

I took a breath, startled by the change in temperature. The air smelled sweeter than summer. I stared, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the moment and the rush of warm air.

I had made it to the Garden. The quest was halfway done.


	25. Chapter TwentyFour: Frank

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Frank**

Rhye flew faster, excited at my awed gasp. She banked her huge wings and circled the hill. It was beautiful and reminded me wholly of Narnia at high summer.

"Can you fly over it?" I asked, catching flashes of color and water beyond the wall.

She laughed. "It would take a lifetime, King Peter! Best to fly around in a few moments time!"

I didn't understand yet, but I didn't argue. Some things you simply had to accept in this world. After a quick circuit around the hill Rhye came to a delicate, trotting landing in the deep grass almost at the top. I slid off her back, staggering slightly. I was certainly not used to flying, though I had enjoyed it thoroughly. I started to walk up the steep slope, then I realized I did so alone. I turned back to the Winged Horse as she fussed over her feathers.

"Rhye? Are you coming?"

She seemed surprised and stopped preening. "It is not for me, King Peter," said Rhye. "You are the one blessed by Aslan, not I."

"Yes," I agreed, "he sent you to me."

"Get thee on." She playfully nudged me forward with her nose. I gave her a final pat and labored up the hill the last few yards, my lungs aching for oxygen and legs burning with the effort. When I reached the green wall of the garden I suddenly understood Rhye's reluctance to join me. It struck me that this Garden was not just for anyone to enter, lovely as it was. One needed an invitation.

I looked behind me. The Garden was so high it seemed as if the whole world stretched out before me. Steep snowy mountains and low green valleys with the silvery ribbon of the river winding its lazy way through the passes. The whole world might be mine, so high and alone I stood, but I didn't want anything beyond my own home and to free Edmund. I searched the horizon for any sign of Narnia or the Eastern Sea. The sun was too brilliant for my eyes and we were too far away, and so I turned back. Beyond the gates I could see a garden more glorious than could be imagined or described. There was a gold plaque of sorts on the gates that contained the lock. On it, written in flowing silver letters, I read:

_Come in by the gold gates or not at all,  
Take of my fruit for others or forbear,  
For those who steal or those who climb my wall  
Shall find their heart's desire and find despair.  
_

The final word made me think of Aslan, and so it was with a smile on my lips and gladness in my heart that I reached for the gates. I knew, thanks to the Lion, that for the rest of my life I would always feel at peace in place of despair, because I would always remember Him and Edmund and how much they loved me.

The gates opened before I could touch them and I stepped into the Garden.

The first thing I noticed besides the silence was the air. It was the same as the air in Narnia, sweet and invigorating and clear, with the scent of balsam and lavender. I breathed deeply for a few moments, my eyes closed as I let the air fill and fulfill me. I was still exhausted, but I could feel the air working upon me and with a final inhalation I opened my eyes and was able to stand straighter, my back less painful. I looked about the garden. It was very beautiful, with a white marble fountain splashing quietly and trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds of all colors laid out on lawns and paths. It was like looking at an array of fabulous jewels. The sun was warm in here, like the morning of a hot day in summer, and I reveled in the reprieve from the constant cold of autumn in the world beyond.

In the center of the paths and beds stood a tree unlike any I had ever seen before. It was an apple tree, not so very tall but the thick trunk was straight and unbranched like an oak or maple, with smooth gray bark and the leaves were a beautiful silver-green and cadet blue. Round, silver apples peeked out between the leaves and they seemed to cast a light all their own. I spotted a gorgeously colored bird, bigger than an Eagle, perched in the Tree. Through heavy-lidded eyes it watched me closely, blazing bright against a shining background. It was a truly beautiful sight and I knew I had reached my destination.

To my complete surprise, a man stood beneath the Tree.

He was plainly dressed in clothes and boots not unlike my own in style. He wore no cap and his gray hair was thin. A little stout, he looked kindly and jolly and wise all at once with a handsome, weathered face. He was strolling slowly through the Garden, admiring the Tree as if he could never grow tired of its loveliness. I stared at him. He was Human.

He caught sight of me at the same time and stopped in equal astonishment. Eyes as blue as the sky blinked once, twice, and then he broke into a broad smile. The silence was shattered with his first word.

"Hullo," he said, and I was taken aback to recognize a broad country accent. "What have we here, lad? Be welcome! In Aslan's name, be welcome!"

I let my breath out in a gasp, so relieved to hear that name that I wanted to cry and laugh and sing and break down all at once. The man stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders, looking at me intently. He seemed to be searching my face for something. I wanted to speak, but I was too overwhelmed and weary to trust my voice. After a moment the man smiled gently, seeming to have found what he was looking for in my expression and recognized my dilemma. He drew me towards the base of the Tree where stood a small bench. He made me sit down and left me for a moment, returning with a goblet of wine that he pressed on me. I drank, and then the tears did come as I recognized the taste of sweet spring wine such as the Fauns had brought to the anniversary celebration. I choked down a mouthful.

"There's a lad," said the man, sitting beside me patiently. "Rest a bit."

"Thank you, sir," I finally whispered several minutes later.

He touched my shoulder. "Feeling better?"

"Much better," I said, though I knew between the tears, my untrimmed hair and filthy clothes, I must have looked a sight. The only thing about me that was clean was Rhindon. Small wonder Pennon thought so little of me. If asked at that moment, the very last word I would have chosen to describe myself would have been 'Magnificent.' The man was kind enough to overlook my shortcomings and indeed, I was very conscious of his noble manners and bearing. And, oh, he had spoken Aslan's name with such joy that his voice was like music. "Thank you. Are you the gardener, sir?"

He chuckled. "I can only wish I were, though I was a farmer and a good 'un. Wouldn't it be grand to have a hand in something as splendid as all this? But," and he shrugged, "I just get to enjoy it now, watching and waiting for the time to come." He cocked his head, looking at me. "You've an air of nobility about ye. What say you?"

I drew a deep breath and answered plainly, "I am a king of Narnia."

The blue eyes grew wide with what I could only say was awe, and for a moment his mouth hung open.

"'A king'?" he finally echoed, recovering. "Don't you mean '_the_ king of Narnia'?"

"No, sir," I replied. "There are four of us. Aslan crowned me, my brother, and my two sisters as sovereigns and we sit on the Four Thrones of Cair Paravel. I'm Peter Pevensie, the High King."

He shook his head in amazement. "Oh, that I have seen this day! Jadis?"

I blinked, shocked that he should know of the White Witch. "She was overthrown and Aslan destroyed her."

"So the prophesy has been fulfilled." He sighed in relief, sagging back against the Tree's silvery trunk. He laid a hand on the bark as if to reassure himself. "Oh, Aslan, thank you!"

"You know of the White Witch?" I asked, just as surprised as he was.

"Not by that name, Peter, but I was there the day she arrived in Narnia. I'm Frank, the first king of Narnia." He smiled at my stunned expression, then drew me into a rough embrace, clapping me on the back. It felt wonderful to be thus held again even if the person holding me was supposed to have been dead almost a thousand years. The heavy slap on my back was proof enough that Frank was quite hale. "Praise Aslan! Narnia is free and I can see her High King is as fine and upright a young man as I could wish." He drew back, holding me at arm's length. He looked old and young at once, as full of joy and life as the Garden we sat in.

"How can you be here?" I asked.

"Actually, I was about to ask you that, for it's not your time to stay here yet, Peter. I can see you've traveled far and through many hardships and your path ahead is as difficult as the path behind. What is it that brings you through these gates? For entry into the place is not something to be taken lightly."

I drank another mouthful of wine. The cup never seemed to empty. "A little over a year ago Narnia's army fought and defeated the forces of the White Witch at Beruna. My younger brother, Edmund, stopped her from killing me by breaking her wand. It was her greatest weapon. She stabbed him through the middle with the remains, but my youngest sister has a cordial that heals all wounds and he was restored. A year to the day of the battle, and every night thereafter, the same stab wound appears and he has to be healed again. Aslan came and said Edmund was under an enchantment that could only be broken if the Tree of Protection was restored in Narnia."

"The Tree is gone?" Frank's expression had turned from sympathetic to horrified. "It was the only thing keeping Jadis out! The scent was hateful to her!"

"According to the histories I've learned, the Human bloodline thinned to nothing in Narnia until there was noone eligible to rule. When the last queen died, so did the Tree. Narnia was laid bare to her enemies and eventually the White Witch stepped in and caused a winter that lasted a century. Until we arrived."

He smiled faintly. "Where are you from?" he asked, and I knew he meant where in England.

"Finchley."

His eyes sparkled with merry delight. "And now you've been sent to fetch another apple."

"Yes, sir. Aslan said a new Tree would nullify the enchantment and free Edmund and protect Narnia again."

"It will. I would like to hear the whole of this tale, but I sense you need and wish to go. We'll meet again some day, Peter, and then I would like to hear your history in full. But you've been too long on this plane." He slapped my knee and stood up, drawing me with him. "Pluck your apple. Never mind the Phoenix, I've never seen him budge and I'm not exactly sure what he does all day."

I smiled faintly at his words, but still I nodded politely to the huge bird before I reached up and pulled one of the silvery apples from the Tree. The scent of it was sweet and put me in mind of something wonderful from my childhood that I couldn't quite place. My mother's perfume, perhaps? Fruit and flowers and summer and sweet wine on a hot night.

Frank looked at me seriously, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Hurry this back to Aslan by whatever means brought you here. Don't let anything tempt you to taste it, for the fruit of this Tree, taken without permission, is what made Jadis immortal and unable to bear the sight and breath of Aslan. The magic is too powerful for us mortals, and though it cannot help but work, for us it would mean corruption. I would hate for that to happen, High King Peter, for I do wish to hear your story."

I smiled up at him. I had no desire to eat the fruit. It was not mine. I only wanted to get home to Edmund and free him, finally, from Jadis's clutches. Besides, I had had quite enough of magic that couldn't help but work. "Nothing could tempt me away from Aslan, King Frank."

"I know," he said, then he kissed me on the head. "I see that in you. Go now, son, and save your brother. Aslan bless you on your journey."

I bowed deeply to him. "Thank you, Sir. I look forward to our reunion."

Then I walked out of the Garden, back to the cool mortal world where Rhye in all her golden beauty waited for me.


	26. Chapter TwentyFive: Orient

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Orient**

The gates closed silently behind me as I stepped back to the crest of the hill. Somehow the world, for all its beauty, seemed dull by comparison to the Garden behind me. My companion was busily eating the lush grass.

"Rhye!"

She looked up, then waded through the grass towards me. She nuzzled my face and hair playfully. "You smell like the air of summer."

I smiled, stroking her velvety nose with my free hand. "It was the Garden. It was almost like being back in Narnia."

"But you were." Rhye shook her head, tossing that silver mane. "This_ is_ part of the Narnia, you know. This Garden, this Tree, are all part of Narnia and therefore part of Aslan and part of _you_. It's a deeper Narnia, larger and fuller and richer."

"I don't understand," I said. "How can there be more than...what is?"

"Can you hold a thought in your hand, good king? Or even slow one down? And yet they be. Is there not a universe within each of us?"

I looked at her, trying to follow her effortless, innocent philosophy. I knew what she said was right, though I wasn't sure why. It was something I simply had to learn to accept. It wasn't hard, not after my youngest sister had found a whole world inside a wardrobe. A universe within myself seemed not so strange at all.

"Yes," I finally said. "There is. And that would mean I'm in you and you're in me."

Her eyes gleamed with delight. "And we are all in Aslan, and he is in each of us. Fortunate are we to know this and believe through all our doubt."

I laughed. It seemed the thing to do when everything in the world is suddenly clarified and faith is finally defined. She seemed pleased with my reaction and snuffled at my face. I smiled at her horsey affection.

"Rhye?"

"Yes, King Peter?"

"I am...glad to have met you, dear heart," I said, unconsciously using Aslan's pet name for Lucy. "If you ever come to Narnia all of Cair Paravel will welcome you and you'll be shod with silver and gold shoes and every honor we can grant you will be showered upon you. I have no words or means to thank you right now, but I am in your debt for the service you have done me and if there is anything you ever need or wish, you only need ask and I will grant you anything that lies within my power."

"There is joy in service to one such as you, good my king," she replied. "There is no debt to settle between us. You have taught me song, and I am a better Horse for having met you and Phillip. Though...I would not say no the shoes of silver and gold."

I threw my arms around her neck, laughing aloud as she nickered at herself. I kissed her cheek. Stowing the apple in the small satchel Susan had made me, I pulled on my gloves and I swung up onto her back, bracing myself before her wings.

She looked back at me. "Would you like to fly fast?"

What had the trip here been if not fast? We had covered a hundred miles or more in less than three hours by my rough estimate. Phillip would have screamed _NO, _but Phillip wasn't here. "You can fly faster than that?" I exclaimed, for our flight here had seemed very swift indeed, given the distance we covered.

There was a wicked gleam in her eyes and she knew exactly what I wanted.

"Hold on tightly, King Peter," she ordered. "I'll show you what speed is."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I saw the grove of trees where Phillip waited and let out a gasp of pure relief that the flight was over. I have ridden a Unicorn, one of the fastest creatures in Narnia, but not even Flisk could match Rhye for the sheer, blinding speed she demonstrated for me that day. My eyes were tearing, my ears were frozen, my nose was running and my hair felt permanently swept back off my face. My thights and arms ached from gripping her to keep my seat. It had been a thrilling, exhilarating, and frightening flight and I was glad to have gotten it out of my system because I never wanted to experience it again. Not at those speeds. We had made it back in half the time it took us to get there and that was moving _against_ the wind.

She came to a landing a few hundred yards from the brace of trees. I didn't dismount, I simply fell off her back and landed in a frozen heap at her feet. I sat there, amazed at the difference in temperature as she ticked my neck with her nose. Flying so high gave me an appreciation for the relative warmth of being on the ground. It was several minutes before I could move. I checked the apple, wrapping it in two of the handkerchiefs, then stood. I was surprised that Phillip wasn't out here to greet us.

"Too fast?" wondered Rhye as we walked. I was a little unsteady.

I laughed, my alarm fading even as I defrosted. I knew that in time I'd remember only the thrill of the flight, not the terror. "Not at all."

We were almost upon the grove of trees where Phillip waited when Rhye stopped dead in her tracks.

Pennon stood before us, seething with anger. Beyond him I could see Phillip standing defiantly, his head high as he glared at the Lord of the Winged Horses.

Rhye snorted and stamped her hoof at her sire. "Despite you, he has succeeded, Father," she snapped. "Young he may be, but it is by prescription, by prophecy, by conquest and by Aslan's blessing that he is High King over all Kings of Narnia, and through him we are all blessed by the Lion. He is _my_ king, and I will sing his praise."

I wasn't sure how she knew my whole title or how I had gained it. Perhaps Phillip had told her. Still, it would not due to be rude to the leader of these wonderful beasts. I stepped up to Pennon and bowed. He cast me a vicious glare and huffed at me, barely containing himself. I kept a hand on Rhindon's hilt.

"You dared to enter the Garden?" hissed the black stallion. "You stole the fruit of the Tree? Little good it will do you, fool!"

"No," I replied, "I obeyed Aslan's instructions and the Garden opened itself to me. I took an apple with permission."

"He speaks the truth, Father," Rhye chimed in, sounding rather exasperated with his aggressiveness. "I saw the gates open to him."

Clearly nothing was going to satisfy the Lord of the Herd except my absence from his land. I grew a little annoyed at that point, tired of his attitude and wasting precious time justifying myself to one who by all rights was my subject. I met his eye, keeping my expression steady and set.

"The blessings of Aslan upon you, and I thank you, good Pennon, for granting us safe leave." I spoke without a hint of sarcasm in my voice, because despite himself, he truely had been blessed with the most remarkable offspring. "I compliment you on your daughter. The wisdom you have imparted to her has taught me a great deal, and I could not have easily succeeded without her aid. If ever you or your people journey to Cair Paravel, you will be welcomed and honored."

I walked past him and began to saddle Phillip, taking care to stow the apple where it would not be damaged. "Are you hurt?" I asked softly as I slipped the bridle onto his head. For all my lofty words I found nothing about Pennon to trust. I glanced behind me to see Rhye with her head close to her sire's, whispering rapidly at him.

"No. He came alone and demanded answers."

"Did you give them?"

"I saw no reason not to. He didn't care much for the truth."

I smiled and patted his neck, saddling him up before gathering and securing the last bundle of supplies. Rhye stood some distance apart from Pennon, looking cross. The Lord of the Herd cast me a dark look. Clearly he did not approve of his daughter being friends with a Human, be he a king or no, and any Talking Horse that would allow himself to be ridden. Rhye had given him as much of a dressing down as a child can give a parent when they are in the wrong.

"Get thee from my land, High King of Narnia," hissed Pennon, "and take your Horse with you."

Phillip snorted. "I am not his. He is mine."

"Peace, Phillip," I soothed. "I'm not sure why you should so despise me, Lord Pennon. Humans might have wronged your people in the past, but you're wrong to judge my whole race by the misconduct of a few. The offense was not against you but against your forefathers. What happened is history long past and neither I nor any of the late kings and queens of Narnia had anything to do with it. Let go your grudge. Open your heart, Pennon, and listen to Aslan's wisdom and love. If ever you choose to journey east, you will be most welcome in your old home."

I meant every word. I bowed again and left him to brood, fairly certain he heard nothing good in any of what I had to say. I had met narrow-minded people like him before and I knew there was little to be done for it. I walked Phillip well past him before mounting up. It felt good to be in a saddle again and have the ground just a few feet away. Rhye followed closely and nuzzled Phillip goodbye, then bowed to me.

"Goodbye, Phillip. Goodbye, Peter High King," said the mare. "I hope we meet again."

"If you fly east, following the river and the rising sun, you'll always find a path," I said. Leaning over in the saddle, I kissed her forehead. "Thank you, Rhye. My blessing upon you, and may Aslan bless you as well." I gathered up the reins. "Phillip, let's go home."

We oriented ourselves and started towards home. Phillip cantered across the grassy plain as Rhye leaped into the sky, wheeling above us joyfully. She swooped down low enough to stir up the dust and grass right in our path. With a final whinny she arched away, back to her home, and Phillip echoed her call, breaking into a full gallop as I let loose with an exultant battle-cry:

"_NARNIA!"_


	27. Chapter TwentySix: Release the Kraken

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Release the Kraken**

Whoever thought quests were the things of romance had obviously never been on one before.

It had been raining for five days without stop. I was soaked to the skin and shivering so badly I could barely speak. I had not had hot food in a week, and what food I had eaten was raw. I stank of myself and wet horse and leather and lanolin. Mud abounded in this land and the river turned into a churning, dangerous guide that swept over its own banks and flooded every hole and dent and furrow in the ground. We picked our way most carefully through sullied waters and over slick rock and prayed for a shelter out of the wind each night. I had fallen more times than I cared to admit and I was filthy from head to toe. I couldn't even dry off my sword and knife, and my bowstring was going to be hopeless for days after this, and the rain had even reached the spare strings tucked deeply in the saddlebags.

I bet it never rained on Sir Lancelot.

At least the terrain was somewhat familiar. We were two full weeks into our return trip. We had spent a night back in the sheltered little vale with the toffee trees and now we were approaching the first of about a dozen small lakes where I had greeted the sea serpent. It seemed ages ago since we had been sitting by the fire with Rhye, a lifetime since Cair Paravel. I was trying vey hard not to let Phillip see how anxious I was becomming over the issue of food and time. We didn't have enough of either, but in conditions such as these there was no rushing. One misplaced foot and either one of us could fall, possibly be swept into the river and drowned or injured too badly to continue. A broken bone so far away from Narnia would be death.

The series of pretty little ponds had swollen over their banks to form big, sloppy, muddy swamps the color of weak tea where bare trees stood in deep waters and our path was swallowed whole by the deluge. I was limping alongside Phillip, blisters on my feet almost crippling me they were so very painful. We had to dry off and soon. I knew I wouldn't be able to take much more of this. My head ached intolerably, my throat was sore, and if it got much colder I was going to drop from exposure.

"Majesty, ride," said Phillip. Clearly he had had enough of watching me slump along through the mud. "You cannot walk."

I thought about being stubborn but saw no point to it. "Phillip?"

"Yes, King Peter?"

"I am never going to do this again."

"Do what, sire?"

"Go on a quest. At least not right before winter. Or in any place that gets this much rain."

He chuckled. "What if Aslan asked?"

"I'll strap Rhindon on Edmund."

"And if he is away?"

"Susan."

Then I just gave in and climbed back into the saddle. Phillip resumed his careful walk, clearly amused at the oath he knew I'd break in an instant. We both kept an eye on the water for the same reason: the sea serpents. I was hoping to see one while Phillip was waiting for them to attack and eat me and possibly him as well. I couldn't convince him the large, graceful creature had not been threatening.

It took a long time to traverse the first pond, so unsure was the route, and we were both tired by the time dusk began to fall. We found shelter beneath an overhang of rock sheltered by trees recently downed by the rains, the earth washed away from their shallow roots. It may not have been the safest place, but there was nowhere else and it was out of the rain and most of the wind. I had nothing but plants, old thistle and nettle, and a few arrowhead tubers and toffee fruits for my dinner, and eaten raw they are no feast and rather hard on the stomach. Why are the most bitter greens also the thoughest and most enduring? Even plantains would have been welcome at this point.

I set the bow and extra strings out in the hopes the string would dry enough to be useable tomorrow. Despite my great care almost half the arrows were gone, though most of the missing ones had been shot at the Slinn. I considered them well spent in that case. At least we were more than halfway through with this journey, though unless we found a way around the Slinn valley I could expect to use up the rest of them.

After rubbing Phillip down as best I could in the limited space I made myself a bed of evergreen fronds cut from the downed trees and curled up under the blanket. Cold and wet though I may have been, I was more tired and I slept soundly the night through, waking feeling stiff and sore and with a stomach angry at me for the nettle greens of the night before. At least my clothes had gone from soaking to merely damp. The rain had stopped overnight, and though the sky still threatened as soon as Phillip was saddled and camp broken down we set out.

The ponds had not receded at all. If anything they were even more spread out, runoff churning the dank waters and debris moving slowly across the surface. Still, we made good progress that day and the weather held off. I remembered the shape of the rock formations along the trail and knew we were halfway past the series of ponds when a terrible, wailing cry echoed across the water.

I sucked in my breath, startled. Phillip's ears perked up.

"It sounds like grief," he said.

"Or frustration," I added.

He picked up the pace a bit, curious and cautious. We heard the sound several more times, growing louder as we approached the far end of the flooded pond. Here the water had risen to swallow trees and bushes far past the edge of the banks, creating a massive swamp with a wall of debris - vegetation, for the most part - built up where the land rose and caught the flotsam. It was all very miserable and two-toned: gray sky reflecting off brown water, gray trees, brown leaves.

Then I saw something moving against the slow current.

"Kraken!" hissed Phillip, turning away. He recognized the creature I had called a sea serpent.

I used the reins and turned him back, something I rarely did. He didn't make it easy, either. "I thought Krakens lived in the ocean."

"They do. This must be some freshwater cousin. They're dangerous creatures, majesty."

"How so?"

"Legend says they can destroy ships and swallow men whole."

"I doubt very much they've ever seen a ship up here," I replied. "What is it doing?"

As we watched the long-necked dragon was searching the shallows for something, coming as far as the flood would allow. Another long, lonely wail escaped it as it peered among the water bound trees and brush, and I realized one of the Kraken must have been trapped in the swampy shallows. I searched as well and saw faint movement in a pile of debris washed far away from where the banks of the pond would have been. Several more Kraken joined the first, all of them anxious and keening.

"Phillip, they need help."

"King Peter, you can do nothing."

He was probably right and I might have listened to him if, at that moment, that pathetic, anguished cry not had not reached my ears.

"I can try!" I dismounted and rummaged in the saddlebag for the small hatchet I used for cutting firewood.

Phillip rounded on me, yanking the saddlebag from my hands as he moved. "You cannot do this! Those creatures could kill you! You could drown!"

"So could that Kraken!"

"These are not your subjects!" His voice rose in anger.

"Since when does that matter?" I snapped right back. I planted my fists on my hips. "I _can_ act and so I _should_. It's something my father taught me, Phillip. Rhye isn't my subject either but I would help her just as quickly!"

That took some of the wind out of his argument. "What of your quest?"

"You're right." I pulled off the small satchel holding the apple, wrapped the strap around it, and thrust it into the saddlebag, pulling out the hatchet as I did so. I was more cross than not. "If I get killed, get this to Edmund."

"No! Peter!"

I gazed at the good Horse, understanding his point of view and wishing he could see mine. Knowing these creatures were helpless before a problem I might easily solve was motivation enough, and if I did nothing now I would never forgive myself. Edmund would understand. Yes, he'd roll his eyes and say I had an overdeveloped sense of nobility and that knighthood had addled my head, but in the end he himself would do no less only with much dragging of feet and sarcastic commentary. In fact, I knew he'd do it better than I because he tended to apply logical solutions with greater skill than I could.

Still, Phillip and I had never disagreed so completely before and I didn't enjoy it. I gazed at him sternly and demanded, "Phillip, what _did_ you promise Oreius?"

He let out a loud groan of frustration and stamped his hoof with a muddy splash. "To keep you from doing anything as foolish as this!"

"It's not foolish. It's the right thing."

He sighed, unable to keep from agreeing with me. Despite his protectiveness, his was a very noble character and he didn't like to argue with me any more than I did with him. I did not like to think that he would question my decisions. My expression must have said as much because he backed down.

"Wait here," I ordered, tucking the hatchet into my belt at the small of my back. I removed my wet cape and tied it to the saddle.

"I'll come."

"No. Only come if I call, and then be very cautious."

"Promise me you'll do the same."

"I will."

I turned back to the muddy pond. A handful of the Krakens had noticed us bickering and had gathered along what I assumed was the actual dropoff for the pond, watching with detached interest. The frigid water I walked through came up to my calves and I remembered the ponds were all surrounded by low, level ground. I angled towards the object moving in the debris and my audience moved along the edge of the pond with me. The water was murky and full of leaves and bits of roots and it smelled badly from all the mud stirred up from the bottom of the river and lakebeds.

The wailing grew louder and more desperate as I got closer to the figure trapped in the debris and clearly the Krakens thought I might intend some harm. It was then that I realized there were several dark forms in the brush. Three, in fact.

They were baby Krakens.

About the size of a Rotweiller I was well aquainted with in Cair Paravel, their smooth hides were pearly gray with a scattering of black spots. Other than their color they seemed perfect copies of the adults. The distraught Kraken must be the mother of the three. The flooding waters had plainly washed them up here.

I moved slower, trying to make less noise. Two of the babies raised their heads and stared at me with wide, frightened eyes. They were bloodied and terrified and exhausted. I could sympathize. The third one didn't move. It was dead, impaled on a broken branch. I understood the mother's desperation even better. Twisted branches and roots made their cage, pinning them in the water with their heads and backs just above the surface. If the water rose any more they would drown.

I looked back at the adults where they were trapped in deeper water. The mother was trying desperately to reach her babies, exhausting herself as she struggled in the thick mud. Trying to convey my intent, I did the only thing I knew they would recognize out of me.

I bowed.

That confused them, even the mother. They looked back and forth amongst themselves and finally, hesitantly, one bowed back. Perhaps he was among the first I had seen, but certainly they were taken aback.

Pulling out the hatchet, I approached the babies, studying the mess of branches holding them. One would be fairly easy to release, the other less so, so I started on the easier of the two. It panicked and thrashed and its brother or sister let out a god-awful howl of dismay, but a few blows with the blade and the branches pinning it were released. The little Kraken let out a scream and lunged out of its prison, bowling me over and smacking me roundly with its flippers and tail as it struggled through the shallows towards it mother using me as a springboard. I stood up, drenched and muddy and spitting at the mouthful of water I'd accidentially swallowed. It took a few moments to find the hatchet and as it waited for deliverance the other baby began to panic. It thrashed and flailed and began to bleed again.

"Stop! Stop!" I begged. "I won't hurt you! Stop, you silly thing!"

I had to act fast. I yanked away as much of the debris as I could and set to work with the hatchet, lightening the weight pinning the little one in the water. It screamed in pain and fear and I winced at the sound. I cleared a path, but the baby didn't struggle free as the other one had and I realized something else must be pinning it. Getting to my hands and knees in the water, I reached in and felt down the baby's back, pinning it as best I could and praying it wouldn't bite.

One of its flippers was impaled on a branch sticking up from below. No wonder it panicked so. I felt the branch. It was smooth, tapering to a point, and about six inches of it protruded through the base of the flipper. I knew this had to be abrupt and cruel, but there was no other way. I worked my hand under the Kraken's flipper and yanked up before it had any idea of what I was going to do.

It howled and thrashed and burst free. For the second time that day I got bowled over and trampled by a huge baby. I lifted my head out of the water and watched the little ones as they lunged and stumbled and splashed towards their mother, making a racket every inch of the way. The first one got stuck behind a clump of bushes and began to cry again. With a sigh and a grumble I gave chase, bodily pushing the little thing around the plants. It was satisfying to see it reach its mother, though, and she bent her head down protectively as the other Krakens greeted it happily. The second baby was having more trouble moving with an injured flipper, so I slogged back through the water to it and urged it along, moving what I could out of its path until the water got deep enough that it could actually swim. Its powerful tail lashed my shin as it passed and I staggered and almost fell back into the swamp. The mother crooned gently and both babies stayed right against her side. I doubted they'd ever get out of her sight again. She slowly swam away, calling to them all the while.

I sighed, exhausted, freezing, stinking worse than before, and bleeding in half a dozen spots. My face and body were sore from the unintentional beating I'd just received, I could taste blood, and sure enough, it started raining again. Still, I was relieved to see the babies reunited with their mother. I thought of my own parents, thought of the reunion with them I'd envisioned countless times, and suddenly the bravery of both my father and my mother astounded me - one for going away, the other for sending us away.

The remaining Kraken turned, studying me intently, not exactly sure of what to make of me. One of them bowed, then another, and then I had almost a dozen of the water dragons bowing deeply to me in thanks.


	28. Chapter TwentySeven: Reflection

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Reflection**

Many thanks to AmyAmidala, Thalion King's Daughter and Capegio for their contributions to this chapter, and to Almyra for the chocolate.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"That was foolish," Phillip insisted an hour later.

"Yes," I agreed, "it was. But I had to try."

He had expected an argument and not getting one gave him pause. We were sheltered in a cave above the waterline. To my everlasting relief, there was dry wood scattered about the cave floor and I hauled more branches in to dry as I made a fire. It was still fairly early in the day to stop, but I was weary and sore and Phillip was angry and we both needed a break, as much from each other as the weather. Half a mile behind us, I had killed a deer. We had come across the poor beast suffering from two broken legs, clearly a result of the floods, and I dispatched it with two arrows. I needed meat badly, just as I needed to be dry and warm and to sleep.

I stood up, checking to be sure I had my knife so I could return and butcher the deer. "I'll be back in a little while," I said, and he understood I wanted to be alone for the moment. Horses were always nervous around blood and large, dead animals anyway.

"King Peter?" called the Horse as I donned my cape and stepped out into the rain. I paused, waiting for him to speak. "You did the right thing. You were right not to listen to me."

I looked back at him. He was rather dejected and I managed a faint smile. "You were right as well, and I will never fault your devotion, Phillip."

I limped through the thick woods, able to follow our trail fairly easily, thinking as I went. Had I been arrogant, insisting on helping? I was fortunate to have saved the two baby Krakens, but the results could have been very, very different. As it was I had a whole host of new bruises and I had a cut inside my mouth that would keep me from smiling for the next week and my jaw - actually, my entire head - ached terribly. Had I imperilled this quest? I could have been badly injured or killed and Phillip would have been left alone in the wilderness

On the other hand, if I had ridden away and left the mother Kraken mourning after her children, I never, never would have forgiven myself and I would have been haunted all my days by the memory of what might have been. There was no easy answer. I was not so in love with my authority and titles that I expected my subjects to agree with every decision I made and quite often their arguments were based on wisdom and knowledge greater than mine. I liked to think that I had sense enough to listen. I welcomed contrary opinions when things were open to debate. In the case of the Krakens, however, there had been no debate and Phillip had refused to accept that.

Today was not the first time he had argued my decisions. A day away from the Winged Horses he had asked why I didn't fly to Narnia with Rhye and deliver the apple. I had scoffed. As if I would leave him alone for days on end within striking distance of Pennon, whom I trusted not at all. Rhye had done all I could ask. I would not ask more of her. She was in trouble enough with her father already. I wouldn't compound her problems for my own ends, especially since she hadn't offered. Who was I to ask her to leave her home? I could invite her to Narnia, I would not order her there. Besides, Frank had told me to return by the way I came and dead or alive, real or not, High King or otherwise, I would no more ignore advice from Narnia's first king than I would ignore Aslan. Phillip had been most unhappy with my decision and stayed quiet all that day. Foolishly, I had not called him on it. I should have addressed the issue then.

Perhaps he thought too much, or too little, of the authority of kings.

I rarely put my foot down, but when I did I had good reason and my brother and sisters recognized this and generally responded. Usually only Edmund went down with a fight and backed off only so long as I listened to and considered his point of view. He didn't require that I followed his words, just listen to another viewpoint. They didn't obey because I was High King. The four thrones were identical in all ways, none higher or grander than another, and I had the title and role of High King by virtue of being born first. They listened when I spoke because they knew our parents depended on me to take care of them and look after them and I had done my best by them all my life.

Anyone that thought to address me above my siblings found themselves swiftly corrected.

I spotted the carcass of the deer a little ahead. It was still warm when I reached it, but quite dead. I touched its head, quietly thanking it, glad it was out of pain. Then I stripped off the cape and gloves and began the messy job of butchering it, my cold fingers stiff and clumsy until I held them against the deer's side. Every movement revealed more tender spots on my body. There was very little of me that didn't hurt. I would have liked to rest a few days, but my pain, at least, would fade in a few days whereas Edmund's was renewed nightly.

Perhaps Phillip had presumed upon our friendship or perhaps he put his promise to Oreius over any authority I might have. Yes, I was a child, but I wouldn't be one forever. Yes, I was inexperienced, but I was learning. Yes, I feared making decisions that might bring about suffering or even death to those that served me, but I did the best I could and stood by my decisions once made. And yes, it was by Aslan's grace that I was a king, and as such I had done everything in my power to be worthy of the title and his faith.

But I didn't want Phillip - or anyone - to obey me simply because I was a king.

In my eyes, that wasn't reason enough. That was why I applied myself so hard to my studies, why I worried so far into the night, why I pushed myself so relentlessly. I wanted to be worthy even if Edmund insisted I was overqualified for the role I filled. I could never see myself the way he and the girls see me. If I ever did I was sure I'd dismiss it as a fit of vanity, anyway.

I understood Phillip's worry was as much for me as for Edmund, but short of Lasa enchanting me I had never lost sight of what this quest was about and I did not need a reminder. Edmund was constantly in my thoughts. I wondered what he was doing and if he was in class at any given time or riding with a pack of Dogs streaming behind him or sitting quietly with the girls and Aslan. I had not mentioned the dream to Phillip even though it haunted my thoughts. It seemed too intimate and private a moment between the Lion and my brother for me to repeat to anyone, even Phillip, though I remembered it so vividly I could recite every word and describe every gesture. I took it as a warning from Aslan not to tarry, so I scarcely needed a reminder as why I was here.

I peeled back the deer's hide. I wasn't very good at butchering large game like this, but out here it didn't really matter. The keen blade Edmund had made me kept its edge very well and I got grim satisfaction as I vented my anger and resentment in physical activity.

Phillip was motivated out of love, I knew, as I was. My words to him held true, I could not fault his devotion. We both wanted and needed this quest to succeed. For that to happen, though, we needed to talk. He had disobeyed me when we fought the Slinn and now he had argued against me helping the Kraken. The path ahead was only going to get more difficult as winter approached. I had to make him understand that there was a time for debate and a time to act, and when to do one or the other.

Taking as much venison as I could carry, I wrapped the meat in a piece of oilcloth I usually used to cover my blankets. There was plenty of small pools about and I washed up carefully. I sat on a fallen tree for a few minutes and rested, concentrating on just breathing and listening to the patter of the rain on the leaves as I gathered the strength and courage and energy to keep going. I drew in my breath for a sigh and it escaped me in a sob. I wasn't ever sure why, but for a few moments I just sat...and wept. Whether for the drowned Kraken or my falling out with Phillip or missing my family so desperately or just for myself, so wet and miserable, I could never say. It wasn't long before I had cried myself out, and I felt better for it. Finally I gained my sore feet and carried the heavy bundle and the arrows back to the cave, pausing to gather some slim branches in order to roast the meat.

"Ho, Phillip!" I called before I reached the cave, letting him know I was there. He looked relieved to see me and I immediately set about cooking the venison, knowing he disliked the smell of raw meat. It wasn't long before I was eating some smaller scraps of venison off a stick as the larger pieces slowly cooked, forcing myself to take small bites and to chew slowly because of the cut in my mouth. It was a relief to eat and I hadn't realized until now how hungry I had been all day. That, I was certain, was part of the problem.

Adding more wood to the fire, I sat back, staring at the flames and enjoying the relative warmth. Finally I rose and stepped over to the Horse, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible. I suspect he felt the same way.

"Phillip?"

"Yes, Majesty?"

I took a deep breath. "I understand and appreciate the worry you have for me and Edmund, but there are times for arguing and times for obeying. I have obeyed you when the situation demands it. Kindly do the same for me. I trust you. Please trust me and my decisions."

"I do, King Peter," he said softly. "I argue because I love you."

I smiled, feeling tears in my eyes. I did not want to start crying again, so I leaned my cheek against his, wrapping my arms around his neck in a fierce hug. "I know, cousin. And I know I have your loyalty. I just hope to gain your respect as well."

"You have that and more, Peter," he said back. "That and far, far more, High King."

I drew back, gazing into his eyes. "I promise I'll try to make keeping your promise to Oreius easier."

The Horse snorted, relieved, then sighed. "I won't hold you to that."


	29. Chapter TwentyEight: Tempus Fugitive

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Tempus Fugitive**

"What was the word for the tomb in this valley, Majesty?"

"Dolmen."

"Even the word sounds ancient."

I chuckled, casting him a smile. The tension that had been plaguing us since we left the Winged Horses was gone, and in its absence I saw how heavy a burden it had been. We had talked far into the night after I rescued the Krakens and had come to a better understanding of each other's point of view towards issues like helping the innocent and reckless endangerment of one's own self. I understood Phillip's protective attitude and he accepted that I needed to act when it was within my power to do so.

I was feeling better, too, after the sudden addition of protein into my diet again. I had more energy, I wasn't quite as cold, and I was less snappish. Being dry helped as well, and we had been treated to a series of clear, crisp days that allowed me to dry out our possessions and have fires every night. My particular concerns were Rhindon, the bowstrings, and my boots, which seemed tight and told me either all this water had shrunk them or I had grown or both. Even the constant winds died down occasionally, and between bouts the sun was almost warm. It was as pleasant as could be expected, given the situation.

We entered the lifeless valley that housed the dolmen early in the morning. We had deliberately timed it so we could be out of the gorge by evening, for it had been about a day's walk through the first time and we both wanted to make camp in the trees and grass on the far side. In its own way it was a pretty place, reminding me of pictures I had seen of the huge, water-carved canyons in the mid-western parts of the United States. Still, I preferred the lush green and rolling hills of Narnia.

We sang as we went, something we had not done in a long while, our voices echoing off the steep stone walls. I had told Phillip about Rhye's fascination with song and he brooded a bit over that, finally commenting that it was sad that her people had lost something so natural and so vital to everything that was Narnia. I had to agree, and to lift his spirits I sang every one of his favorite songs as sweetly as I could manage.

The dolmen was little more than halfway through the gorge and by mutual agreement we intended to rest a short while there. I was looking forward to seeing it again simply because it was a memorable landmark and visible proof that we were making progress home. I was still singing when we rounded a bend in the river, fully expecting to see the stone structure set up above the river bank.

Instead what I saw was a sleeping Giant.

I choked on the next note of the song. I stopped so abruptly Phillip's nose smacked into my shoulder and sent me staggering forward a few stumbling steps. Together we stood and stared.

Now I've had many dealings and very respectable relationships with Giants, more with the good version than the bad. Luckily, since the defeat of Jadis, bad Giants tended to steer clear of Narnia and keep to their city north of Ettinsmoor. Though simple and often slow in their thoughts, good Giants are the truest of friends and invaluable for battle and heavy labor and lifting up my littlest sister to put the finishing touches on the Christmas decorations in Cair Paravel's great hall. Though basically human in form, they tend to be a little heavier, as if they were more crudely made than humans. The ones I had met ranged in height between eighteen and twenty-eight feet tall, the women tending to be a bit smaller and cleverer than the men. They're loud, bawdy, good-hearted beings who think anything smaller than them is cute and needs looking after, even Oreius.

This Giant was at least three times the size of the biggest Giant I had ever seen.

He slept on his side against the wall of the gorge with his head resting atop the dolmen, his great, slow breaths stirring the dust and making ripples on the river's surface. He didn't look like other Giants I had seen. Indeed, he looked more like an overgrown Human than a Giant. The top of his head was bald, but he had a long, flowing gray beard, bushy eyebrows, and in sleep his face looked kindly and wise and noble. He wore a long brown tunic belted about the waist, blue leggings, and boots so big I couldn't imagine how many hides had gone into them.

For a minute or more, the Horse and I were speechless.

"What should we do?" Phillip finally whispered. "Go back?"

I swallowed, unable to look away, awed by the sheer size of this man. And I had thought the Krakens were huge?

I nodded, unable to come up with a better (or safer) solution. "Step lightly," I finally managed. My voice rose in a squeak.

Phillip let out a little moan and we began to slowly turn around. A Horse trying to tiptoe is not a pretty sight, especially when he's shod in iron and trying to make his way soundlessly across smooth rock. Suddenly it seemed as if everything we carried squeaked and banged and clanked and our passing was nothing short of an almighty din echoing across the gorge. Phillip kept his head down, looking as hangdog as ever I'd seen him and I knew my own expression couldn't have been very dissimilar. We'd barely moved twenty feet when my foot slipped on some gravel. I fell, catching myself with both hands, biting back a yelp of pain and surprise. Rhindon's sheath smacked onto the rock with a loud clang! We both froze in place when the Giant snorted and stirred slightly.

Gingerly, I regained my feet, staring at the Giant. We started moving again cautiously, seemingly even noisier than before and wincing at every step when with a mighty yawn and much mumbling and moaning, the Giant woke up.

"Such a racket," he muttered in a deep, clear voice. He stretched luxuriously.

We froze in our tracks and I slowly, reluctantly turned around. The giant was propped up on his elbow, his hair mussed by sleep, his eyes half-opened and tired, his attention focused on us.

"Was that you?" he asked, frowning. "How could something so small make so much noise?"

"I - I - I apologize for disturbing you," I stammered. "We...we were trying to be quiet."

He shrugged, slowly sitting up. His feet were larger than Phillip where they rested on the ground not far from where we stood. If he wanted to stomp us, we would be flat without a fight. Looking at me with interest, he asked,

"Am I so very large or are you so very small?"

Amazingly, I was able to form an answer. "I think it's a little of both, sir."

"What are you, then?" he asked.

"A - A Son of Adam. And this is-is a Horse."

"Ah! Horses! I remember meeting some very clever ones."

And before I could protest he picked up Phillip on his forearm just as easily as I would have picked up a cat. I clapped both hands to my head. Poor Phillip! He didn't dare move, just lay there with his legs dangling down and panic in his eyes as the Giant looked at him this way and that.

"Yes,' said the Giant. "Very wise beasts, Horses. And I assume you're a son of King Frank and Queen Helen?"

"Actually, sir, King Frank and Queen Helen reigned in Narnia almost a thousand years ago and could you please put Phillip down?"

"What? Oh, of course." He set Phillip carefully onto the ground again. The good Horse staggered and hurried to my side, standing close by as if he wanted to hide from sight. I wished I could do the same. "So, Son of Adam, Frank and Helen reign no more. Such a shame. They were marvelous rulers and Helen made the most delicious strawberry jam."

"You knew them, sir?" I asked, startled. I had to crane my neck to address him even seated.

"Of course! I was much smaller then. Barely to treetop levels, actually. You know of Narnia?"

"I'm her High King, Peter Pevensie."

"Really?" His bushy eyebrows rose. "You must give my regards to Aslan."

I blinked, then stuttered, "O-of course. Whom shall I say sends his regards?"

The Giant drew a deep breath. "He named me Tempus."

"Time? He named you for time?" I wondered, then realized I was being rude by questioning something so personal as a name. He took no offense, though.

"Indeed. I was an unhappy king in a very ancient, troubled kingdom. I held such hopes, but the land and people were corrupt and beyond my ability to redeem and they plotted endlessly against my rule. One day, in the midst of my despair, I went for a walk and wandered into a cave by the shore. The cave was a doorway to Narnia, newly brought into being by Aslan. He welcomed me, castaway that I was, and named me Tempus. In him, in this land, I had found all I sought. He bade me grow in wisdom and faith and love in him, but beyond that I simply never stopped growing at all. I think Aslan might have something to do with that, for every time I've seen him he seems larger, too."

I smiled. Phillip shuffled closer. "I know what you mean, sir."

Tempus rested his hands on his knees and sat back with a sigh. "But now I've grown weary. I have traveled the world over. I have touched the dome of the sky, I have spoken to the Stars, I have plumbed the depths of the ocean and I have tasted the sweet waters in the river leading to Aslan's Country. I have had my fingers burned by Salamanders and Birds of Morning stole the hairs from my head for their nests. All I seek now is someplace quiet to sleep until He calls for me at the end."

"And we woke you up. We're very sorry, King Tempus."

He chuckled at the title I gave him. "King no more, Peter Pevensie, merely student of the divine and the happier for it. You may call me Time. How many people in this world can claim they've been named by two kings?" He smiled through his beard at me. "And no need to apologize, I was really only napping for a few weeks or so. I need a dark and quiet bed. Perhaps I shall seek my berth within the mountains to the north. There are caverns beneath the Mirror Mountains not even the Ogres have explored. I need to sleep and dream and perhaps even forget a few of the things I have learned these many years."

I had no idea where the Mirror Mountains were but he seemed to, and this plan appeared to satisfy him quite well. He looked at me closely, leaning far over to see me clearly. His eyes were green and bright and kind. While Phillip hadn't lost his fear, I felt no threat from him, especially since he spoke Aslan's name with love and reverence.

"And what brings you so far from your kingdom, High King?"

"I'm on a quest to save my brother. Aslan sent me to fetch an apple from the Garden in the West to restore the Tree of Protection in Narnia."

"Ah, yes. Jadis again, I assume. Unpleasant woman. She tried to turn me into stone once. Bothersome, that."

"She's no more. Aslan destroyed her."

"Then Narnia and all the world is better for it. Come! I must head east a little before turning north. Your company would be welcome." He rose, towering above us and casting a mighty shadow.

"Of course, sir, but, I-oh!"

He scooped poor Phillip up again, just as he had before, and picked me up in his other hand, holding me gently. I balanced on his huge fingers. Each was longer than I was tall and rough as untanned leather. I looked at Phillip. The unfortunate Horse was perfectly miserable and terrified, looking, for all the world, like a stuffed toy draped over Tempus' hand.

"Well then," he said, turning and following the Great River. "I believe you were singing before?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

What took us a day to traverse took the Giant Tempus an hour, and he walked for three hours before gently setting us down in a small field not far from the river. I was hoarse from singing every song I knew. Tempus seemed to enjoy the company and entertainment equally, and he thanked me for all the songs even as I thanked him for taking us so far.

"If you ever come to Narnia, sir, you would be most welcome," I promised, ignoring a snort from Phillip.

He smiled softly. "When the Lion calls, I will come. Until then, wish me sleep, King Peter."

I grinned back at him. "May your rest be long, quiet, dark, and peaceful, and may every dream be sweet, sir."

We bowed to each other and I watched him stride off to the north, humming one of the songs I had sung. Phillip said nothing, just found a spot and laid down even before I could get his saddle off.

"Are you sick, Phillip?" I asked anxiously, kneeling beside him.

"I have...never ridden before," said the Horse in a shaky voice. He seemed to be rocking slightly, trying to stabilize himself. "I don't like it. I had no control. And my stomach hurts. His gait was uneven."

"Ah. I see." I had a seasick Horse on my hands. This could get ugly. I made it a point not to mention that I had enjoyed the ride immensely. "Well roll over a bit and I'll get this saddle off you and I'll fetch you some water. You need to rest yourself."

He obeyed and didn't move for the remainder of the day. I had a successful hunt and built a large fire early on so we could both enjoy the warmth.

When we woke up the next morning, the first frost had turned the land to white fields of fine ice. Winter had come to the Western Wild.


	30. Chapter TwentyNine: Down in the Valley

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Down in the Valley**

"Peter! Peter, where are you?"

I looked up the sheer wall of rock looming overhead. The angle outwards was slight, but enough to keep me from being able to see the Horse. A small stream of dust and gravel told me exactly where he was above me, though. "Phillip, I'm right here. I'm not hurt."

"Thank the Lion! Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," I assured him. Bruises, scrapes, and a few cuts no longer constituted as being hurt in my book.

"Can you climb back up?"

"No. The cliff angles out all along here. That's why you can't see me. I don't see another spot to climb up. I can only go down."

I shuffled to the edge of my perch and looked down. It was far to the valley floor below, with steep rocky walls with patches of vegetation clinging to life here and there until meeting evergreens along the banks of the river. I knew the river and Phillip's path would meet at the end of the vale. Though I didn't recall this exact location, one valley being very similar to the next, there had been a number of times when the trail had deviated from along the Great River and rose high into the hills. This was one of those occasions. Foolish me, I had been looking at Phillip, not where I was going. Unfortunately the ground had seen fit to give way under my feet as I passed, dumping me onto this shelf of rock about forty feet below the rim of the valley after a nice, grit-filled slide down the face of the cliff and a quick drop onto this legde. I was lucky to be alive and lucky I wasn't decorating the bottom of the valley this very moment.

"I'll reach you!" cried Phillip.

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" I ordered sharply. "Follow the trail to the end of the valley. I'll climb down and follow the river and meet you at the far end. _Wait for me there!"_

"But I have the food!"

"Save me some! And watch out for bears!" I was teasing. We had seen no signs whatsoever of bears this whole journey, but it would keep him alert. "I'm climbing down now, Phillip! I'll see you in a day or two. Be careful! And wait at the end of the valley!"

"Aslan go with you!" he called.

"And with you! Go on!"

I knew if I lingered he'd work himself into a frenzy of worry. After double-checking to be sure the apple was secure and undamaged in the satchel over my shoulder, I strapped Rhindon on my back and used the belt to secure my cape so the winds wouldn't pull me off balance as I climbed. The day was clear and sunny and the frost was long gone from the cliff face. It wasn't exactly warm out, but it wasn't freezing cold, either, and i was rather used to the constant chill. The stone under my hands was brown and weathered with many cracks and jagged breaks that allowed for many hand- and footholds. Climbing down was no great problem, though I did get stuck twice and had to climb up a bit to find another route. The hours Edmund and I had spent climbing over every rock and up every cliff within five miles of Cair Paravel (accomplished without Silvo and Martil being any the wiser) stood me in good stead now. The slope increased as I got lower until I went from an almost vertical climb to simply picking my way down the mountain. I had checked the entire way down, but I didn't see an obvious way back up to where I'd been. It didn't really matter. Once I reached the river it would be a simple matter of following it out of this valley and meeting up with Phillip at the next.

I finally reached the floor of the valley. Looking up the steep cliffs I realized I'd come further than I had initially judged. My arms and hands were sore from all the climbing, and I shook them out after returning Rhindon to my hip. Then I plunged into the thick evergreen forest to find the Great River.

What I had anticipated being a simple matter really wasn't. I should have known better. The forest was so thick that forcing my way through was almost impossible and all sunlight was blocked out. I climbed and ducked and wove and inched every step of the way. Even this late in the season I got covered with resin in a matter of minutes. Moss and lichen abounded on every surface, thick and green, the other plants the evergreens would abide growing around them. Oreius had said lichens were edible, but I wasn't quite hungry enough to sample any. Not yet. I certainly wasn't in any danger of running out of them, at least. I was glad I had eaten a huge breakfast because without the bow and arrows hunting would be impossible, even if there was any game in this place. I hadn't seen signs of any life besides me and the trees, not even birds.

When I reached the river it was a small cataract, icy cold and loud. I got a drink, then turned and walked along its banks, climbing over steep rocks and fallen trees and picking a careful path. Small wonder the trail bypassed this valley. It was almost impossible to traverse the riverbanks and I slipped more than once and almost spilled myself into the water. Only someone mad or on a quest (or both) would take this route. The only virtue it had was that it was shorter than the trail Phillip and I had been following, just a thousand times more difficult. The floor of the valley and the banks of the Great River were a huge, jumbled mess of stone that seemed to have been thrown up in hap-hazard fashion to make traveling difficult in the extreme. I would be fortunate to reach Phillip by tomorrow.

As I worked my way downriver I took the opportunity to wonder about home. It wasn't so very far past dawn and even now Edmund was probably sitting at the breakfast table with Susan and Lucy. I didn't dare think about breakfast, but I did wonder how their classes were progressing. I didn't know what day of the week it was, but if it was a Firstday Edmund would be Oreius' and Celer's student all morning learning how to plan and conduct battles. On Seconday he would be at the mercy of the dance and music instructors along with the girls, then it was off to rhetoric. Third-, Fourth-, and Fifthday he was with Cheroom. Often I attended history with him, sneaking out of the library to join them since Cheroom was a far more intersting (and awake) teacher than Lewiston. Sixthday it was back to Oreius and Seventhday we rested. It was strange having tutors come to us, but at least there was almost no homework and no tests.

I stood atop a tall rock, looking downriver and trying to assess my path. It would be slow going. The pines were so thick they seemed to be edging each other out as they competed for light along the riverbanks. I had never seen forest so dense, not even at Aslan's How when the rebel trees tried to capture me and Edmund so Jadis' soldiers could kill us.

And then things started getting strange.

As I studied my surroundings a misty, whispy bank of fog began to form despite the draft of air over the river. I glanced skywards. Behind me the sun was still shining. Before me, impossibly, was fog. It curled through the trees, adding an air of eerieness I could just have well have done without.

Having no choice, I continued along my difficult path. Odd sounds began to reach my ears, sounds of things moving in the forest or splashing in the water behind me. At one point I thought I heard music, a few notes blown on a flute. Though it was a little disturbing, I ignored it all as best I could and concentrated on getting downriver. It took a lot more than noise to frighten me. I've had a screaming Centaur general swinging a claymore at my head full force to teach me the true meaning of fear. After an experience like that, noise in the forest was almost laughable.

I began to wonder if the ground hadn't given way under my feet by design. Given the configuration of the cliffs, I should not have hit that ledge. And how strange was it that there was no way to climb up, only ways down?

I could see why the trail skirted this valley, and it wasn't just because there wasn't a clear path along the river.

The valley was inhabited by creatures so odd they made Talking Animals and Walking Trees seem commonplace.

It all started with a funeral.


	31. Chapter Thirty: Circle, Steel, and Mist

I must give credit where it's due and the idea of Blue River Steel belongs to Almyra. I'm just borrowing it back from her!

**Chapter Thirty: Circle, Steel, and Mist**

I had just climbed a ridiculously high, steep rock along the river and I collapsed to the mossy ground to rest a few moments. It was drawing close to noon by my estimate, though the bank of fog effectively cut off the sun and plunged the valley into a pale twilight. The going was very hard and seemed to be all uphill even as the river dropped further away. It was as if the valley itself was making it difficult for me. Climbing steps cut for Giants could not be harder.

I looked towards the woods and to my delight I spotted some wintergreen. Sitting up, I gathered up a few of the leaves and chewed them, the sharp, minty flavor a welcome treat. I was about to stand up and move along when I saw movement in the dead, brown ferns and grass right on the edge of the forest. I thought it might be a vole or perhaps a hedgehog, and since I had no desire to frighten the poor beast I stayed still.

So when a pair of fairies no taller than my hand was long emerged from the brush, I was speechless.

They looked mostly human in form with brownish skin and clothes that resembled leaves. Their hair was dark where it peeked beneath their hats made of acorn caps, and their sharp features were accented by pointed ears. They carried staffs with long gray banners attached. Both little men stopped and stared at me with mutual astonishment. I must have seemed to them what Tempus had seemed to me just two days ago, and I dropped to one knee to seem less monstrous.

"Good morn to you," I finally said, nodding in greeting.

After an exchange of looks, they nodded back, touching their fingertips together as they did so. One of them piped up in a squeaky voice, "Alas, sir knight, it is not, for today we bury a great lady."

"I'm grieved to hear that, good sirs, and I'm sure you do her honor," I said. More fairies came up behind them and I realized there was a whole funeral procession about to pass. After Narnian tradition I drew my sword and held it downwards before me out of respect for the dead. I confused them, but they didn't take me as a threat and they continued on their chosen path. Behind them came similarly dressed fairies, male and female both, some carrying banners and others dried flowers. Some of them even had delicate wings like those of a dragon fly. The first two waved the rest on and the procession carried on past me, not without a great deal of staring and whispering. I thought they were quite pretty beings, though Narnia had nothing so small or exotic, at least not that I was aware of. Their clothing became more ornate and rich as more of them passed, and I realized that this was a fairy court. Several rode mice that were saddled and bridled just like horses. All seemed very dejected and the finer the clothes, the less attention they seemed to pay me, though I was impossible to miss.

The line stopped again. The route of their procession was blocked by a puddle of deep mud gathered between two long stones. They could not get through without climbing, which would destroy the dignity of the entire party. The first two I had seen looked back nervously at the long line and I saw their plight. Setting Rhindon down, I stood up and unstrapped my sword belt, sliding the sheath off the long belt. Three strides over the moss and I laid the sheath down in the mud before them. It was more than long enough to give them a high, clear, and dry path. The little crowd of fairies touched their fingertips together to me and hurried on so the line wouldn't stop. I retrieved Rhindon and resumed kneeling. The passing courtiers were lavishly decked in brilliant clothes and jewels, many of them mounted on mice. They simply accepted my presence and that of the sheath in the mud.

Finally a bier carried by four princely fairies passed by. Upon the bier was the body of their lady. She was an old dame with a stern and majestic face. She wore a grey kirtle and she lay upon a brilliant red maple leaf. Behind her were several fairies robed in gray and riding mice, all of them with their heads bent low. Several musicians accompanied this group, playing a long, low dirge on their flutes. If the mourners weren't already miserable I thought that melody would most definitely dampen their spirits as sure as rain on a holiday.

Behind the mourning party came the most gorgeously dressed fairies of all and one of them broke out of the ranks, gesturing for the rest to continue. He directed his mouse to a small mound of moss not far from where I knelt and watched the procession pass. When the last guard in leaf-garb strode by he turned his mouse towards me as neatly as I would have turned Jett. He was a handsome fellow and he looked at me squarely and without fear. On his head was a crown no bigger than a ring, he was richly dressed in velvety cloth and jewels, and there were wide, gossamer wings on his back. He pressed his fingertips together to me.

"You have done us good and honorable duty this day, Sir Knight, and for your service you have my gratitude and that of my people," he said in a voice that was surprisingly deep for his diminutive size.

"I am grateful to have helped in your time of grief," I replied, glad for my rhetoric lessons that allowed me to imitate his courtly speech, speaking volumes but saying very little. "If there is any other service in my power to render you, my lord, you have but to ask."

He inclined his head in thanks. "We will do very well henceforth, Sir Knight, and the service rendered shall be mine. This valley is dangerous for strangers, and so I bid you tarry not. Take nothing that is offered you freely. Let nothing draw you away from your path. When you sleep tonight draw a circle 'round you with your Blue steel and no matter what happens, do not set foot past that line until you see the dawn. No harm will come to you at night in a ring of steel."

I puzzled this for a moment, then realized he was talking about the knife Edmund had made. It was forged from Blue River steel, the finest in Narnia, and I wondered how he knew about it. Perhaps his kind could sense it. Not that it mattered, really. I bowed my head and said, "Thank you, my lord. Your advice is most welcome, and I shall follow it to the letter."

He nodded back as he spurred the mouse around. "Fare thee well, Sir Knight."

"Farewell, my lord."

He rode across Rhindon's sheath and caught up with the rest of the funeral procession. In moments they were swallowed by the forest and mist. I knocked the mud off the sheath, strapped my belt on again, and continued on my way.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

My next encounter with a denizen of this valley was not nearly so somber.

Not an hour past the fairy funeral I heard another rustle in the brush. I paused, but no fairies appeared and I pressed on. Every few minutes another rustle shook the bushes or leaves. Something was following me and clearly it wanted my attention. I ignored it. Presently the rustles were accompanied by chirps and trills and hums. It was a sweet sound, but I wasn't curious enough to stop and find out what it was. I only cared if it wanted to attack me, and so far it gave no indication of any violent inclination. If it did I would be glad to introduce it to Rhindon. Whatever it was wouldn't take that for an answer and it was getting frustrated at being snubbed.

Finally, it popped its head out of the bushes.

"Hello," I said, startled, my hand on Rhindon's hilt.

It was a blue fox.

Not a gray-blue, mind, but genuinely blue. If Sir Giles had been dipped in indigo dye, he'd look like this creature. It was quite cute, of which it seemed well aware, with disproportionately short legs and navy blue points instead of black. It looked up at me bright and friendly and made a trilling sound and a bark. I smiled at it, nodded, and kept walking.

The fox let out a whine and followed. Darting into my path, it looked up at me with wide, soulful, blue eyes. I stepped over it and kept going. It got in the way again, darting back and forth to the edge of the woods and back. Clearly it wanted me to follow it, which was the very last thing in this world I was going to do. I wanted out of this place and I wasn't about to trust any unnaturally colored fox that tried to lead me astray. The fairies, at least, had not asked for anything and had gone about their business. I was a bit more inclined to trust the fairy king's advice and keep to my aim of getting out of here rather than frolicking about with woodland animals no matter how adorable they may be. The fox yipped and indicated with its head that it wanted me to go into the forest. It really was a pretty little thing, but then, Jadis had been beautiful.

"No, thank you," I said to it. I moved around it and started climbing up the rocks in my path. The blue fox let out a wail as if I'd stomped on its tail. "What?" I asked, looking down. To my annoyance, the little bundle of fur started following me. "I'm not going into the forest," I told it. "You can give it up."

If I had kicked it, the fox could not have looked more crushed. Crying aloud, it threw itself on the ground and rolled and thrashed about in an absolute tantrum the likes of which I hadn't been witness to since Edmund was two. With a sigh I turned back. The moment it realized it had my attention the fox sprang to all four feet and was cute again. It looked back and forth between me and the forest hopefully.

"No," I repeated. "Go find someone else to waylay. I have a Horse to meet."

I resumed walking. Behind me a long, lonely whine turned into a savage growl. Not ten steps later something struck me behind the knees and fell flat on my face amidst the rocks and lichens. I felt a weight on my legs and I twisted over.

So much for cute. The fox growled and foamed savagely, trying to drag me into the forest by my leg. I lashed out with my other foot, kicking it in the head. By its reaction it wasn't used to its victims defending themselves so readily because for a moment it looked positively offended.

So I kicked it again.

Struggling free of its jaws, I surged to my feet and drew Rhindon. The fox was angry now. I wasn't playing by the rules, it seemed. It leaped at me and I sidestepped, bringing my sword down in a sweeping arc. To my complete surprise, I sliced it in two without the least problem. No blood stained my sword, no bone or hide or muscle stopped my swing. Whether it was the nature of the fox or some magical reaction to the steel of Rhindon's blade, I could not say.

And now there were two of them, each half the size of the first. They scrambled to their feet and looked at each other in astonishment. Then they seemed to rally themselves and re-established me as their intended victim. Both growled savagely at me, their hackles rising. One leaped right at me, but I kicked it, sending it sailing, and the other tried to bite my leg. I shook it loose and sliced it in half.

And now there were three.

The second one - or two, I should say - were beginning to figure out that attacking someone armed with a sword wasn't the wisest course of action for creatures of their nature. The half-beast came rushing back and I didn't hesitate. Two hard swipes with Rhindon and I had six graduated, confused foxes, each quite literally a fraction of the original's size. They looked back and forth among themselves, trying to figure out what had happened and how I had gotten so big all of a sudden. I stamped my foot and they darted about in a panic, yipping and howling and crying as they collided and scrambled for cover.

I shook my head, sheathing Rhindon. I had to get away from this place before things got any more bizarre.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Dusk fell far sooner than I would have liked, forcing me to stop. I found a level patch of ground sheltered on two sides by stone and decided this would be my bed for the night. The ground was thick with moss and very springy, so I needn't cut any branches to make a bed, much to my relief. I would have liked to make a fire but the flint and steel were in the saddlebags. I pulled out the knife Edmund had made me and studied it for a little while, thinking of my only brother and the love that had gone into its making. It really was an elegant piece, so simple and balanced. I pictured him laboring over it in the broiling hot smithy, perfectionist that he is, following every word of instruction the Black Dwarfs gave him. I knew that all parties involved in its making had to be pleased with the blade or else I never would have gotten it.

If the fairy king was right, this gift would protect me the night through. I stood up and chose a starting place, digging the blade into the soft soil. The effort took longer than I thought it would, but in the end I had cut a wide circle into the ground. For good measure I dragged the blade round the furrow again, whispering, "Aslan, protect me through the night. Be at my back and watch over my sleep. I have a Horse to meet, a brother to save, and a kingdom to protect. Be with me, Great Lion."

Then I wrapped my cloak tightly around myself and curled up in the center, waiting for sleep.

It was a long wait.

I was very hungry and thirsty and I should have gotten a drink before I settled down for the night, but I wasn't willing to step out of the circle. Just as I was drifting off to a deep sleep when there was an explosion of laughter and girlish voices. I jerked awake as half a dozen young women in white dresses came skipping over the slope towards me. In the thick fog they seemed to radiate silvery light and they were lovely to see. The chill air didn't seem to bother them as they danced lightly along, their blond hair flowing behind them. They giggled and frolicked and all at once they made a great show of noticing me huddled on the ground. As if they fooled anyone other than a fool, for what were the odds of them finding this little hollow in the whole valley if not by design? I supposed I had an advantage over the average traveler, being well acquainted with fairy tales and other such lore. My experience in Narnia had taught me not to be deceived simply because something or someone was fair and sweet. Honesty, goodness, and truth were the things we valued in Narnia regardless of appearances. I was thoroughly on my guard.

"Oh! 'Tis a handsome knight!" exclaimed one, and I knew not to trust them because I was a filthy mess and the furthest thing from handsome. They all clamored to be heard, crying, "Come join our feast! Come dance and sing! We have wine and food and song! Oh, do say you'll join us, sir kinght!"

I noticed that for all their enthusiasm and good cheer they didn't step any closer than the edge of the circle I had dug. I stiffly uncurled myself and stood, bowing to them and choosing my words with care.

"Dear and fair ladies of the vale, I thank you for your kind invitation, but sadly, I must decline. This bed is not so easily made, and once I leave I doubt I can return."

They giggled and flirted harder. Were all girls except my sisters so flightly? I had met a small handful of noble girls that acted this way. It was so false it was annoying, and I knew the girls hadn't seen me as much as they had each seen themselves as my wife. I resolved then and there to let my siblings pick out whom I married. Anyone that could survive Edmund would be worth consideration.

"Just over yon hill is a fire and feast and sweet wine, good knight," said the first speaker. "You will be warm and fed and we will make you a bed as soft as eider down."

I smiled, wishing they would go away and take their talk of food with them. My stomach was growling. "Again, dearest lady, I thank you. Your offer temps me, but I fear I cannot step foot past this ring until the dawn."

Another of the girls laughed. "'Tis but a line in the dirt! What can it do?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Why don't you step over it and see?"

She didn't laugh this time. Her expression hardened and she looked less pretty. I glanced down as she shifted her stance and I saw that beneath the hem of her dress her feet were black and gnarled. She hissed and drew away into the thickening fog.

"We have venison and callie birds, warm bread and honey cakes, rich red wine flowing like water and every fruit of every season waiting for your pleasure," teased another girl. "Come with me and eat your fill and we'll dance for you!"

How many times could I say no? I bowed my head to her, trying to be polite. "My thanks and my gentle refusal. I mean no insult to your hospitality, lady, but I must refuse. I am bound to this ring."

A frown. They clearly grew angry. They were like the blue fox - they were not used to being stymied.

"You'll forgive me, dear ladies," I said, wrapping my cloak around me and sitting on the moss.

Blood-curdling screams erupted and in an instant the sweet maidens turned into hideous, ancient hags dressed in rags with wild, streaming hair and long, twisted limbs. I leaped to my feet, drawing my sword in terror, but they didn't attack. They couldn't cross the line I had dug with the steel knife. They leaped and screamed and hopped all around me, but they never drew closer. I let my breath out in a gasp. Time passed as the hags hurled insults and taunts at me, calling me all kinds of horrid things and challenging me to fight them. One got too close let out a howl of pain, her gnarled foot smoking as she staggered away, cursing steel at the top of her voice.

Unable to relax yet, I felt my initial alarm fading. I turned Rhindon downwards, holding the blade in both hands as I rested my forehead on the lion's head on the end of the hilt. "Thank you for my gift, Edmund," I whispered, my heart racing and my hands trembling as screams echoed off the cliffs and waters. "Thank you, Aslan, for sending me the fairy king. And...thank you for the sense to listen to good advice when it's given. Be with me still tonight."

I kissed the image of the lion's head, then I glanced at the growling hags. They were frustrated beyond words. I seemed to have that effect on people today.

"Good night, ladies," I said, and settled down again for the night.


	32. Chapter ThirtyOne: Knave

**Chapter Thirty-One: Knave**

_In my restless dream, if dream it was and not a vision, it was dawn at Cair Paravel._

_I stood in the courtyard between the barracks and the armory. These grounds were familiar - this was where Edmund and I trained to be warriors six days out of the week, summer or winter, rain or shine. Every morning before dawn we donned our armor and gathered our weapons and waited for Oreius and Celer. Here we weren't kings, but soldiers. _

_I heard metallic footsteps and the sound of hooves. I turned to the archway behind me as Edmund stepped into the yard. I felt a thrill at seeing him, dream or no. Beneath his mail cowl and helmet his face was pale and thin, but his dark eyes had the same cool, sharp look I knew and loved in my clever little brother. I recognized his mood instantly: fierce determination. This was not an Edmund to be trifled with, and when he got in this mind set not even I cared to cross him. He could only be pushed into a mood like this, and this early in the morning I knew he was pushing himself._

_Celer stood beside him and the Faun captain seemed to pick up on his state. _

_"We'll warm up until General Oreius arrives," decided Celer, his breath visible in the cold morning air. "Start with blocking."_

_Edmund nodded, drawing Shafelm. I felt a twinge of envy and guilt as he knocked his visor down into place. I missed these lessons, but I had sorely ignored practice. Edmund was going to be a force to be reckoned with when I got back to the Cair - his form was exceptional and his control seemed vastly improved. They exchanged blows, blocking and striking in turn, slowly circling. _

_"Shields down?" asked Celer. It struck me as odd that he should ask. Usually whomever was in charge simply ordered us to do this or that and we obeyed. It was also odd that it was just the two of them. Usually there were other officers and guards and servants about. It was almost as if they were trying to hide something, meeting here in secret._

_Edmund nodded and set his shield aside. I wished he would speak. Now came the real show of Edmund's skill with a sword, for he fought better without a shield in duels. I watched him with delight as the warm-up gradually became a lesson and they began to fight in earnest. The Narnian style of swordsmanship is graceful and beautiful, utilizing momentum and spins and speed to best advantage. It was particularly suited to Humans, given our size and quickness and build. Edmund was holding his own against the Faun, using his sword to block and parry and strike in motions as fluid as water. In battle Edmund would also be kicking and stomping and hitting on top of using his sword. That wasn't permissible in a match such as this since we had the advantage over Fauns and Satyrs in that we could easily kick in any direction and they could only kick backwards. _

_I sensed motion out of the corner of my vision and turned to see Oreius standing in the archway, arms crossed against his chest. The expression on his face was unreadable. Was it alarm? Concern? Or was he proud? Perhaps all three. He seemed tense, as if he was about to speak, and then his stance stiffened. I heard the dull clang of a poorly blocked strike, as if by a sword held too loosely. I whirled just as Edmund dropped Shafelm. Both of his hands were pressed to his chest, holding the wound as he had done the night of the anniversary celebration. He fell to his knees, unable to speak through for the sheer agony so much physical activity had caused. _

_I wanted to scream. I tried to scream, but this was a dream and I was mute. I couldn't even run to him as Oreius and Celer did. I could only watch as my brother pitched forward, gasping for air as Celer gently held him and pulled off his helmet. He clapped a hand over his own mouth to keep from crying out his pain, and for several endless and cruel minutes_ _Edmund simply knelt in the courtyard and fought for control and for every breath. He was so terribly pale I expected him to faint at any moment. Centaur and Faun exchanged a desperate look over his bent head. _

_"Sire," Oreius said softly, "you must rest. Your body is not equal to the demands you place upon it. When your brother returns and this curse is broken, then we'll make up for lost time. Until then, King Edmund, you must not drive yourself so hard."_

_Edmund looked up at him. There were no tears in his eyes, just the echoing pangs of pain. For a moment I thought he might refuse, but then he slowly, reluctantly nodded in resignation. I sighed in relief, even though for Edmund I knew it was as close to admitting defeat as he'd ever come. _

_"Come," said the Centaur, helping him to gain his feet. He did not release my brother from his gentle grasp, but supported him as they slowly walked. "Back to the Cair." Celer fetched the fallen sword and shields. Edmund slid Shafelm into its sheath with hands that visibly quaked and reached for his shield, but Celer stepped out of range._

_"You can have it back when we reach the stables," said the Faun. Edmund huffed, then tried to stand straighter and winced. They slowly walked past me, never seeing me. The whole time Edmund had not uttered a single word. I reached out, tried to touch them, and -_

I woke up to something tugging at my clothes. With little shout I lifted my head from the moss. It was morning and I was staring at a pair of small and ugly feet.

I sat up, suppressing a groan as I tried to separate myself from the vision of Cair Paravel and be alert to the situation at hand. I blinked stupidly, my hand automatically closing over Rhindon's hilt, for I had slept fitfully with it drawn and under my hand all night. Focusing on my unwelcome companion, I saw a creature that looked like a mix of Dwarf, hedgehog, and pinecone. About two feet tall, it had a roughly Dwarfish build with a long, sharp nose and beady eyes like a hedgehog, but with huge, pointed ears set far back on its head. On its back was a cape of sorts with tapered points sticking out its whole length. Everything about it was brown, and I realized that was exactly what it was.

"Who are you?" the Brownie demanded in a shrill voice, frightened and alarmed that I had woken.

"Nobody," I replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm the toll keeper. You owe me a toll for passing through this valley."

"Why should I pay you?"

"Because you want to pass through," he reasoned, for the voice was most definitely male. "I want a pretty thing!"

"I have nothing to give you," I said.

_"Liar!" _spat the Brownie. "Liar! Knave and a liar! You have a pretty thing! I saw! I want! I took!"

Sneering and proud of himself, he drew his hand from behind his back.

He had the apple.

I felt myself go cold. The apple lay in his gnarly hand silver and perfect and fragrant. The little creature leered at me, pleased with himself and stupid enough to be boastful.

"Knight is a liar! Liar and knave! And for that lie, you owe me more!"

I dropped my left hand to the ground as it ranted, out of its line of vision. Carefully I worked my fingers past the rug of moss. The Brownie was too busy antagonizing me to notice as I released Rhindon.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty," he laughed wickedly, tossing it from hand to hand. "I could throw it into the forest, or..." He caught it up and smelled it, inhaling deeply. "Mmm."

"Don't eat it," I warned.

The Brownie smirked at me sadistically. He was enjoying tormenting me, the little beast, and he held it near his open mouth, displaying a row of crooked brown teeth. "Why not? Will it kill me?"

"No," said I in savage tones. I felt the soil beneath my hand, closing my fingers into a fist as I gained my feet. "You'll just wish it had."

That was not the answer he expected and he hesitated. I took advantage and whipped the handful of dirt and gravel I had picked up right into his face as hard as I could. The Brownie let out a scream of pain and indignation as I lunged, drawing my knife. I had the steel blade at his throat and my hand seized his bony wrist, squeezing with crushing force to make him drop the apple. He squealed in pain and tried to squirm away, but I held him without mercy, twisting his arm. He tried to turn into the pain but Edmund's gift held him at bay.

"How dare you try to steal something I've fought and suffered for," I hissed, furious enough to ignore his pain. "My brother's salvation depends upon that apple and you would just eat it to be spiteful? How dare you mock me!" I moved the knife and yanked him to the ground. He hit the dirt face-first. Still gripping his arm, I stepped on his back, pinning him firmly as I had been taught by the general of my army. It wasn't easy since he was so small, but with my foot on his back he wasn't going anywhere. I couldn't remember a time when I had been more furious than now. It was as if something within me had snapped. "I tell you this, you miserable piece of filth, I have killed creatures far worse and far more evil than you without a second thought. Why should I let a thief live?"

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" screamed the Brownie, kicking his feet.

"You certainly are," I agreed, tightening my grip.

"You can pass! You can pass!"

I didn't move, tempted to finish him off just to be sure he wouldn't follow and harass me. For a long moment I considered. Too long, perhaps, because I thought I heard on the breeze a faint growl. I knew the tone instantly, be it real or imagined.

Aslan.

I let go. Later on I might be ashamed for prolonging his pain for my own satisfaction, but right now I was too angry to care. The Brownie cradled his arm, sobbing, and I was sorely tempted to kick him.

"Do as I say or I'll do far worse than kill you," I promised, scooping up the silver apple, "I'll hurt you. Now get up."

His swagger gone, the Brownie stood. I drew the knife again and yanked him forward until we were almost nose-to-nose.

"Do you know what this is?" I demanded, holding the knife about an inch from his face. He flinched at the sight of the silvery blade.

"'Tis Blue steel," he whispered, terrified.

"It was forged by a king," I hissed. "You like pretty things? Lead me out of this valley down river. Try and deceive me and trust me, I'll _give_ this to you." My meaning was unmistakable. He thought I had gone mad and perhaps I had, a little. He had pushed me beyond the point of caring and it felt good to vent the fury that possessed me. I tightened my hold on him and the Brownie nodded anxiously. I roughly let him go, pushing him away.

Sniffing, defeated, the creature crawled miserably along, terrified to have his back to me. He sickened me and perhaps I sickened myself a bit by stooping to threaten so low a being, but fresh in my mind was the image of Edmund gasping in agony and defeat. The Brownie had stolen from me and saw fit to mock me and I had had enough. I was sure I'd have regrets for my conduct later, but so long as I got out of this valley I could live with regrets.


	33. Chapter ThirtyTwo: Nobody's Reflection

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Nobody's Reflection**

I should have known better. After being so alert and vigilant for so long, minding my manners and what I had learned and the advice I had been given, in the end my own anger landed me in trouble.

I trailed a few steps behind the Brownie, still burning mad at the little creature. That he had called me names and mocked me; that he had rifled my person and stolen the apple did not bother me so much as the sneering and malicious pleasure he gleaned when he threatened to eat the apple. I had no doubt that he would have done so just to torment me and deny me something that I wanted. I had done nothing to this creature to deserve such treatment. He was simply a bully, like the boys at Edmund's old school had been, and now that I had bested him at his own game he had reverted to a sniveling coward.

Even that didn't bother me so much as the selfishness that could have - and almost did- cost me this quest and my brother's life. Perhaps it was just the Brownie's nature to be so obnoxious, but even if he hadn't known what he was doing I wasn't about to forgive him for threatening Edmund. Not after the dream I'd had this morning. I was tired, hungry, and I wanted to get home. I was sick of being cold and worried and aching in every joint and the Brownie was a victim of his own poor timing because my temper had boiled over and he was in its wake. I rarely got so angry and I never stayed that way for long, but having him in front of me all day just fanned the fire. Oreius would have frowned, telling me to forget this anger and concentrate on the task at hand. Unfortunately the good general was hundreds of miles away looking after my brother. Still, I _should_ have known better, and even as I seethed some of that anger was directed internally for not just letting go.

This I will say, the Brownie did lead me quickly down river. The desire to be rid of each other was mutual. His presence seemed to keep the other denizens of the valley at bay - perhaps they took turns accosting travelers. No fairies, no off-color animals, no dancing maidens in disguise, there weren't even any calls or music from the woods that I heard, but all my attention was on my unwilling guide and odds are I simply missed the sounds.

Something was bothering me though, and when I ordered the Brownie to stop for a few minutes' rest I demanded, "How did you know this knife is Blue steel?"

"They told me so," whispered he. "And I felt it burn."

"Who told you?"

He stared at me with those beady eyes, calculating. I glared right back with far more spectacular results.

"Answer me."

"Unseelie," he said so softly I could barely hear him. "Unseelie want the kingly steel so the Lord will rule."

I frowned, trying to piece this information together with what little I had already seen in this unnatural place. Clearly I had landed in the midst of some local conflict. Wonderful. "Why do they want the steel?"

"Power over the Host of the Earth."

_Whatever that was_, thought I. I remembered the Hag burning her foot on the circle I had dug last night and I wondered what would have become of the blue fox if I hadn't used Rhindon but the knife on it. Beyond being a gift from Father Christmas, I had no idea of Rhindon's origins. It was a gorgeously made sword and the best in the land, but something told me the metal from the Blue River Dwarfs was even better. Perhaps the love and effort Edmund had put into it made a difference.

"Get up," I ordered, stepping back. "Keep moving."

So it seemed I wasn't here by accident after all. I was inclined to think the meeting with the fairies had been chance, but the fox and the Hags...they had known where to find me. And the Brownie...

"Faster," I ordered, giving him a nudge to pick up the pace. He glanced back at me, caught the glare in my eyes, and obeyed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We actually made good progress, if it can be called that when you don't know where you're going or how far it is to your destination. The Brownie knew routes I would not have been able to find and the path was easier than climbing over endless steep rocks. The fog persisted and seemed to grow thicker as the day wore on.

"How much farther to the end of the valley?" I asked. I was so hungry I had actually tried a bit of lichen. Oreius and I were going to have a discussion of what constituted edible when I got back to Narnia because it was the worst-tasting stuff I have ever encountered in my life.

"Not so very far, Nobody," grumbled the Brownie. "Half to noon tomorrow."

I wasn't very keen on spending another night in this accursed place and even less keen about the company I was compelled to keep. How could I restrain him? Should I simply release him and press on alone, or see about trapping him in another circle with me tonight? That solution appealed not at all, though I now carried the satchel with the apple under my tunic.

"Keep going."

He snorted. I should have listened to him instead of clinging to my anger. I should have paid more attention. I might have seen it coming, then, and done something instead of blundering headlong into the middle of a private war.

_Might_ have, but somehow, I doubt it.

Dusk was approaching. I made it a point to get a drink before looking for a spot to spend the night. The terrain was rocky, though the trees thinned a bit, enough that there were a few clearings here and there. I was still debating as to what to do with the Brownie - keeping him with me seemed the only solution, unsavory as it sounded - when he suddenly turned to me with the oddest look upon his face. A nasty, mocking gleam filled his eyes as he looked at me, then across the river.

I followed his gaze.

And found I was looking at myself.

I blinked in surprise. It was like looking in a mirror. My boots, my clothes, my hair, my face - looking back at me across the Great River. My first thought was that if that _was_ me I looked awful. My second thought was that whomever or whatever it was, it was evil.

The Brownie cackled in delight, taking advantage of my shock to run away into the brush. My double began to walk towards me, leaping from rock to rock with impossible strength. I scrambled back towards the nearest clearing on the edge of the woods. I could hear things amongst the trees, roused by the dying day. There was no time to dig. I snatched the knife from my belt and started to scratch a wide circle in the middle of the clearing. I glanced at the river. The copy of me climbed onto this bank, striding towards me. I moved faster, panting, just scraping the surface of the ground with the blade. I kicked fallen branches out of the way, my back to my unwelcome twin for a few moments. I could hear him in the undergrowth, hear indistinct voices as I rushed. I missed a few inches and I hastened to retrace the missed spot. He was moving around the ring towards me, almost upon me, and with a last desperate lunge I completed the circle and stood back, fighting to get my breath under control.

The copy of me stood not three feet away. I stared at the thin face and wild hair, filthy clothes and worn boots. Could this be me? This starved-looking, pale little creature that didn't blink? No. No matter how closely it might resemble me, I could never have such cold, vicious eyes, and while I radiated fatigue, this copy was naught but wickedness. I looked upon this ... this thing and it frightened me more than anything I had encountered since leaving Narnia.

_...you are far greater than your fears..._

Aslan. The very thought of the Lion was reassuring to me and I prayed he was right, because the echo of his voice in my mind kept me from panicking. I thought of his smile, his kiss, and I closed my left hand over the Lion's head on Rhindon's pommel. Filthy and ragged though I may be, I was still a king. Reassured by the memory of Aslan's words, I stood up straighter and faced my doppelganger squarely.

"You are a stranger in this vale," said my own voice. The accent was far off, which actually came as a relief. "What is your name?"

"Ask the Brownie," I snapped. He had lead me here and I had foolishly followed, right into the clutches of this creature, whatever it was. My ire shifted from the deceitful little sprite to myself.

A faint smile. It was eerie to see my expressions on another face. "He said you were Nobody."

"And Nobody I'll remain. Who are you?"

"Nobody's reflection. You wish to leave this place."

"I intend to."

"Give me the kingly steel you bear and your life and freedom is guaranteed."

I sheathed the knife. "My life is already my own, and you aren't holding me, I'm holding you back." I wondered if I looked that formidable when I was angry, for the imitation cast me a vicious glare. I threw back my cape. "And what kingly steel are you talking about? I bear the sword of a king and a knife forged by a king. They're both noble weapons."

"But only one is pure," he replied, staring at Edmund's gift t me, "and so far more deadly to our enemies."

I motioned towards the ring I had cut into the earth. "And to you as well."

"Be warned. The Seelie king gives nothing away, not even his words."

He meant the fairy king, I was sure. "I earned his words and his warning with services rendered. All you've done is try to trick and deceive and steal from me. Who brought me into this valley? Who sent animals and Hags and that Brownie to try to get me into the woods? I take it you did that, or someone you're in league with. That was poorly done."

His sarcastic sneer told me I was right. "You _have_ been a challenge, I grant you," said my reflection. He slowly circled round me. I resisted the temptation to turn and watch him as he moved. "But what loyalty do you owe the Host of the Earth?"

"The Seelie King?" I asked, and he nodded. "I owe him more loyalty than I owe you. He rendered me fair service and took nothing I didn't offer first."

"Our peoples are ar war. With the death of their queen I am on the verge of triumph. Your presence in this valley has tipped the scales in my favor."

"Provided you have the Blue steel," I corrected. "Why do you look like me?"

"Perhaps you look like me."

"If so, you need a barber."

He chuckled. So strange to hear my own laugh this way! He came back into my line of view, his tone condescending. "I took this form because it was something you could understand. What I am beyond this guise is not comprehensible to your kind."

How very white of him. I knew he wouldn't so inconvenience himself unless there was no other way to get what he wanted.

The forest behind him was stirring with life, distorted and strange beings. Some flew and others walked or crawled. I saw beautiful women with goat's feet, winged frogs and scaly birds, things like animated trees and ghostly, glowing forms that flitted just on the edge of my vision. I saw the little blue foxes and Dwarf-like things and hideous, oversized insects that moved like Men. Most of the things were fairly Human in appearance, but there was a foulness about them, something stretched and tainted and unnatural that made them difficult to look upon without disgust. I was used to oddness at every turn in Narnia, but none of these creatures had the inherent goodness of the inhabitants of my kingdom. Even the caustic Black Dwarfs were more good than not. This, the Unseelie Court, was frightening and unclean as they swarmed behind the leader that had stolen my form.

And it appeared I was their guest.


	34. Chapter ThirtyThree: Earth and Air

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Hosts of the Earth and Air**

"So," said my reflection, enjoying my disgust at the sight of his court, "will you save your own life and give me what I wish?"

"No."

That was all. I left him to frown and glower and deal with his volatile subjects as I considered my position. I had little cause for optimism. I had no idea of where I was, how far it was to escape this valley, and my hosts were decidedly hostile. They wanted the knife I carried to use against their enemies and would stop at nothing to get it from me. Beyond that, I was borderline terrified. These unsavory creatures would do me in without a moment's thought if they were able and the only thing keeping them at bay was a line scratched in the dirt. They were all around me, a huge crushing mass, so I had no choice but to face my fears.

_...without fear, there would be no bravery, and you are far greater than your fears..._

I was glad Aslan had said those words and no one else, otherwise I probably wouldn't have believed them. As it was, the Unseelie began howling and screaming at my refusal and if they had been threatening before, now they were positively berserk, making it even harder to believe I was greater than the stark dread gripping me. I stared back at their leader. It was like staring into a mirror that reflected only evil.

"What are you?" I asked.

"I am the Lord of Mists and Host of the Air. I am the Unseelie King." His eyes narrowed. "And what are you?"

"A Son of Adam."

He smirked. "Nothing more?"

"I am a knight and the High King of Narnia," I answered with pride in the title I had earned and the country that I loved.

"And hence you bear two kingly steels."

"And you wish to relieve me of one for your own ends. What would you do with such a blade, Unseelie King?"

"I would kill the new Seelie king as I killed their queen. I would command this valley by day and night."

That explained the funeral. "And you expect me to help you by handing over the Blue steel since your henchmen are too inept to steal it for you?"

"Our wars are not your concern."

"I believe you've made it my concern by kidnapping me to this place."

He clearly didn't care. "You can't stay in your circle forever."

A good point, but one I wasn't willing to concede at the moment. He hadn't encountered my streak of stubborn yet. Well, Edmund called it stubborn. I called it determination.

I think Edmund was closer to the truth.

The thought of my brother brought to mind the dream or vision I'd had of him. Edmund and Celer fighting...

_For a moment I was back there in the training grounds, watching my brother spin around, bringing Shafelm down in a graceful arc, changing direction and thrusting the blade forward towards the Faun's throat. Celer smiled as he blocked and leaned back, it was an excellent move and in a real duel it would have deadly effects..._

_Peter...take this..._

_You're both facing trials that will test your wills and your hearts._

_...you might need it..._

_...choose according to your heart and instinct._

_He fought better without a shield in duels..._

An epiphany of sorts struck me. Praise be to Aslan, I understood the vision. There was only one way out of this. At least, only one way I could see that might work.

I focused my attention on the Lord of Mists. "You're right," I said, surprised at the calmness of my own voice. "I can't."

"Then give me what I want before I lose all patience, High King of Narnia."

"I'll _give_ you nothing," I snapped. For all he was identical to me, he certainly wasn't anything _like_ me. "If you want this knife you'll have to win it from me. I challenge you to single combat, Unseelie King. If I win you'll immediately escort me out of this valley unmolested by anything in here. If you win, I'll give you the Blue steel and I'll go my way."

He roared a laugh and I knew I was in well over my head. The Unseelie crowed with delight.

"Done!" cried the king.

I held up my hand. "There must be rules agreed upon."

"Name them! I agree to all!"

I spoke slowly and with care, trying to think above the din of the circus surrounding me. "We use the weapons we're bearing now and no others means of attack or defense. Since I'm alone, there will be no seconds. This is a private duel, no one and nothing may interfere on behalf of either of us. If they do, the match is forfeit. We duel here, in this clearing, and everyone but the two of us must keep well away."

"Done!"

"Not quite. Your form is...borrowed." I wanted to say stolen, but kings didn't accuse kings of such things even if they were evil. "You'll keep this same form for the duration of our duel without change."

He glowered, unhappy with that rule but bound to agree, then demanded, "And what will determine the end? First hit? First blood?"

Did he even_ have_ blood? "Death or a plea for mercy," I replied recklessly.

"Done," he agreed with a nasty sneer that didn't suit my face at all. He wouldn't know mercy if it bit him.

I had no faith he'd keep his end of the bargain. "We'll need light."

"Back!" he shouted to the courtiers, raising his hand sharply, and the awful beings reluctantly withdrew, casting us both crafty looks. He gestured again and a ring of red-orange fire sprang up around the clearing, holding the creatures and the mist at bay. I nodded my satisfaction with the arrangement and took a few moments to study the terrain. It was a fairly level area with a few rocks and fallen branches. Pine needles lay thick upon the ground, making it spongy. I felt rather sick as I unclasped my cloak and removed my gloves, but Rhindon's shining length was reassuring as I drew my sword. There, in the midst of these hellish creatures, I dropped down to one knee with Rhindon before me.

"Aslan," I whispered, "as you love me, be with me tonight. Guard me against this wickedness that I may return to you and Narnia. Give me speed and strength and courage, Great Lion, and hold me in your loving grasp." I kissed the Lion's head as I had done the night before, my eyes tightly closed as I winged the prayer to Aslan. This was either the stupidest or the bravest thing I had ever done...

_Stupidest_, I heard Edmund's sarcastic and affectionate tone in my thoughts.

...but I supposed stupidity and bravery went hand-in-hand. I was living proof of that, thank you, Edmund.

I stood up and faced the Lord of Mists. "I have your binding word that you'll abide by the rules agreed upon?"

"Yes. Have I yours?"

"Yes."

He spread his hands. He hadn't even done me the courtesy of drawing his sword yet. I prayed I never looked so arrogant. "Then have at it, High King of Narnia."

I saluted with my sword, as was customary, and stepped out of the circle.

As I expected, he attacked me instantly and ruthlessly without the least regard for manners.

And I had finally found an outlet for my anger.

I kept both hands on Rhindon's pommel for now, though I was quite capable of wielding it one-handed. I blocked a swing at my middle, startled at the strength of the blow. For all he had my size and build, my copy was incredibly strong. I never stopped moving, whirling around to angle the blade towards his neck. He barely blocked it, and that only served to aggravate him.

He wielded a sword similar to Rhindon, but longer and black. It was difficult to see in the fire light, but my eyes got used to watching for his motions to allow me to counter his moves. We circled each other slowly. I cannot begin to say how strange it was to cross blades with myself. All around us the Unseelie Court roared and cheered and raged, dancing beyond the fire, urging the king on and howling for my blood. I did my best to ignore them, concentrating on attacking and defending. I spent a few moments getting used to his movements. While very strong and fast, clearly his natural form was larger than mine because I could tell some of his attacks were mistimed or he misjudged the distance of a strike. That may have been on purpose, trying to lure me in. He was adapting quickly and I needed to find a way to win.

I jumped over the black sword as he swiped at my feet, and as I did so I realized he was imitating my style. He laughed at me, mocking my efforts.

My training under Oreius and Celer and a dozen other captains and heroes of the army stood me in good stead that night. I was used to battling opponents of different sizes and with very different styles of fighting and I was used to several attackers at once. Until now I never realized how much I had learned. I surprised both myself and my royal adversary. He made the same mistake others had made before him - he judged me by my age, not my ability. It gave an advantage that I pressed as long as I could, because I was also tired and frightened and fighting something about whose nature and powers I had no knowledge.

I lunged and turned, twisting my sword arm as I whirled, sliding the point of the blade over his and towards his throat. What would it be like to slay a twin? I suspected this wouldn't be the first time he had slain an opponent wearing their guise. Was that how he killed the Seelie queen?

He gave way to my assault, getting over his surprise before attacking in turn. His movements were swift and sure and I frustrated him with my unexpected show of skill. It couldn't last forever, though, and whatever ability I had was going to inevitably be overwhelmed by his brute strength. Tired as I was, that happened far sooner than I liked to admit. At least I remembered to breathe while I fought; usually that was my undoing. My double showed no sign of tiring or slowing. He came at me without pause or rest, trying to force me on the defensive. I stubbornly - or determinedly - resisted.

I raised Rhindon over my head at an angle, stopping his overhead stroke. The black sword slid down and I swung at his neck all in the same motion. He blocked, glaring and gnashing his teeth as his court howled and screamed in twisted delight at the sport. I was far more persistent than anyone expected, and frustration on the Unseelie King's face looked pretty much like frustration on mine. I knew I was getting at him. I flicked Rhindon's tip to the side, nicking his sleeve. He staggered and gripped the spot and I realized two things: even his clothes were part of his being and he _could_ be hurt after all.

I was ready for the first underhanded move. In truth, I had expected it sooner.

His eyes narrowed, he gesture at me much the same as he had driven his court back and lit the ring of fire around us. I darted out of his line of fire and the magic he generated struck the tree ten feet behind where I had stood. The trunk exploded into splinters and I ducked behind the relative cover of more trees. I was panting heavily, my limbs aching with effort, and I was trembling as much with fatigue as with fear.

"You agreed to use the weapons we're bearing!" I shouted.

He laughed. "I bear magic all the time, High King!"

I rolled out of the way as another blast came at me. I felt splinters of wood drive through my leather jerkin, but I had so many layers of clothes on the sharp bits of wood didn't penetrate very deeply. The trees crashed down, shattered.

Then he attacked me with his sword so hard and fast I could barely block. He had been playing with me before, learning my moves, teasing me by imitating me. He used his full strength now, smashing down on Rhindon as I held it to block. The blows were staggering and I tumbled to the ground, but I heard an odd ring from his blade. He heard it too and hesitated. That was all the opening I needed. I scrambled to my feet and immediately attacked.

Anger had been my mistake. Too much force had been his. Too much force, underestimating his enemy, and faith in a sword unworthy of a king. I swung Rhindon with all my strength and he blocked instinctively.

The black sword shattered against kingly steel. It seemed even his blade was not immune to what held sway over the denizens of this land. Like the blasted trees before it, black metal broke into shards that flew in every direction. I staggered back, feeling splinters pierce my arms and thighs. Gasping and panting, I looked at him.

The Lord of Mists still had my face, but he no longer looked like _me. _He was furious beyond measure, his features twisted into a conniving, resolute sneer. He was peppered with black shrapnel from his own sword and he grimaced in pain. Where there should have been blood staining his clothes from the many cuts, a greenish mist seeped out. With a wild cry he thrust his hand at me. I couldn't dodge and some unseen force snatched Rhindon from my tight hold and sent my sword flying across the clearing. It landed close to the fire. The Unseelie cheered as their king leaped across the clearing in one bound and seized me by the shoulders, bodily slamming me against a tree. He gripped my upper arms and beat me back against the trunk. I smacked my head, trying to fight him off, but he was so grossly powerful.

"None challenge me in my own lair, little fool!" he hissed. "Not you, not the Seelie! You have destroyed the symbol of my greatness! For that, I'll kill you with your own sword!"

He lifted me clear off the ground. I fought to reach the knife on my belt but he was pinning me too tightly. His eyes seemed to turn to grayish mist in his uncontrolled fury as I struggled and let out a shout of pain.

"I'll sweep down and destroy your kingdom! And I'll have two kingly steels to rule this land!"

_...be brave and true throughout this ordeal, not only to each other, but to yourselves..._

It wouldn't be cheating or a lie, not within the agreed-upon parameters. Not if I looked at the rules the way Edmund would have seen them. The way the Host of the Air saw them. As Oreius would have seen them...

_There is not a part of you that isn't a weapon but don't ever forget your greatest weapon is your mind. _

The Unseelie King smashed me down to the ground, still holding on with crushing strength. My legs almost collapsed beneath me, but I lifted my head, tossing my long hair out of my eyes with the motion as I looked at him fiercely.

"But I have something you'll never have," I hissed.

"A conscience?" mocked the Lord of Mists.

"No! A sneaky little brother!" I cried, bringing my foot smashing down on top of his with all my strength in one of Edmund's favorite moves.

His eyes bulged and he howled in pain as I followed up with a heavy kick hard against his knee that would have crippled most opponents, but only drove him back a little. I smashed his arms aside and twisted free to gain the distance I needed. I snatched the dagger out of its sheath and loosened my worn sword belt. Laying hold of Rhindon's sheath, I yanked the belt off and whipped him across the face with the heavy steel buckle. The Unseelie fell back, clutching his misty eyes, staggering from the kick to the knee, for in this form he was vulnerable to physical pain. He screamed and raged at me, swinging wildly and sending blasts of magical power every which way. Unchecked by trees or fire, they decimated the Unseelie Court. Now the screams were of fury and pain and grief as his attacks landed on his own people. I darted back and away, gasping for air. My breathing betrayed me and I couldn't lose him, but I lead him on a crazy chase around the clearing, around the trees felled and standing, until I was closer to Rhindon. I threw the belt and sheath into the thickest patch of bushes. He turned towards the sound and I dove for my sword. The familiar weight in my hand was as welcome as an old friend. Too late he realized his mistake and whirled just as I leaped forward and ran him through with Rhindon.

Nothing happened.

I stood there with my weapon buried in his ribs and he just laughed. Laughed, and slowly began to dissolve into fog.

For a moment I was horrified, staring at him in shock. He swung, back fisting me so hard I staggered back and collapsed, my head ringing.

The laugh turned to an insane cackle and his face - my face - began to stretch and distort as the Unseelie King broke his solemn vow and started to revert back to his true form. He yanked Rhindon out of his chest with an eerie laugh and a swirl of mist instead of blood.

I did the only thing I could think of doing: I gave him the kingly Blue steel he wanted so badly. We lunged at each other, only I ducked low, recklessly knocking his sword arm upwards as best I could. I felt a burning in my shoulder as my own sword sliced into me. I drove my keen blade all the way to the hilt just above his belt, thrusting the knife home with all the strength I had left before he abandoned my shape entirely. Pure Blue steel. Deadly to his enemies, but equally fatal to him as well. Was it the pure metal or the love that had gone into its making that brought about his end?

An almighty, shattering shriek echoed off the mountains and climbed up to heaven. The sound was so loud it seemed to pass right through me, a shocking, jarring strike that pummeled me harder than any blow he had landed. I stumbled back, looking up as he turned to a sickly, gray-green cloud of mist. The hazy form reached tendrils out at me, their touch freezing and painful and tight, but I had nonetheless dealt the evil king a deadly blow. Even as the mist tried to do me harm, it began to fade. Screams rose from the mass and in a last desperate act of revenge it swept down upon me, enveloping me, my own distorted face lunging at me and howling in my voice. I tried to move, tried to evade, but I was too tired and clumsy and the Unseelie King was too horrifying. His real form was so cold it sucked the warmth out of me. I couldn't breath. The air was fouled as though with smoke. I reached out, fighting against it, but there was nothing to grasp as the tendrils wrapped around my throat, choking tight. I dropped to my knees, my vision blackening as the Host of the Air robbed me of the thing I needed most: my breath. The ring of fire vanished. I saw was the Unseelie Court racing towards me, ready to tear me limb from limb when the sweet sound of horns snatched their attention away. Something came streaming through the forest from all sides, attacking them. Screams of fury turned to shouts of fear and panic and the Unseelie Court wheeled to face their ambushers.

I saw songbirds and bats and mice and foxes carrying riders. Size made no difference in this fight since the weapon of choice was magic.

It was the Host of the Earth, the Seelie Court, come to avenge their fallen queen.

I hit the ground, freezing cold and with consciousness choked out of me. My last thought was I hoped they remembered to avenge _this_ fallen king as well.


	35. Chapter ThirtyFour: Winter Soldiers

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Winter Soldiers**

"Sir Knight?"

The voice was small and deep and familiar and with the utmost effort I opened my eyes. My vision was blurred and my head ached beyond telling. I couldn't see anything save for a brown blur. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision.

"Sir Knight? Waken, good sir, if you are able. Pray let us know you are well."

I coughed and drew a deep breath. The air was cold and smelled of pine and water and it burned my lungs. Slowly I lifted my head. I had been face down in the dirt. No wonder I saw nothing but brown. I looked for the source of the voice and spotted the Seelie King standing beside my head. Behind him stood a beautiful red fox - a _normal_ red fox, like Sir Giles - and several of his attendants with their bird and mouse and squirrel steeds. The attendants all pressed their fingertips together to me. I blinked back. The king looked deeply concerned as I got my arms beneath me. I rolled to my side slightly and wiped the pine needles and dirt from my face and hair. I checked to feel that the apple was still tucked away beneath my jerkin, then brought my eyes into focus on the fairy king.

"Majesty," I mumbled, too sore to articulate.

"Have you more injuries than your shoulder and hands?" he asked anxiously, stepping closer. His concern was genuine. "We have treated that wound and our healers await your word to do anything else necessary."

I considered. My hands? What had happened to my hands? I flexed my fingers experimentally. All things considered, they seemed fine, just very red and stiff. "I don't know, my lord," I managed. "I don't think so. Nothing too bad, anyway."

I looked around. It was daytime. The sun shone clear and bright through the trees, a perfect day in late autumn with no sign of mist blocking out the world. The light was too bright for my aching eyes and with a groan I lowered my head to my arm again. My stomach was too empty to rebel, but it certainly wanted to. As for my body, every inch of me hurt, especially my hands and arms and throat where the Unseelie King had attacked and choked me.

"What happened?" I asked.

"A great evil has been driven from our land. You slew the Host of the Air with your kingly steels. My people attacked just as your noble duel ended. We have triumphed over darkness."

I looked at him shrewdly, my tired mind putting the pieces together. "You knew I'd kill him?"

The king bowed, fingertips together. "I hoped, good sir, and I beg your indulgence for my conduct and not acting sooner on your behalf. There was no way my army could defeat both the Lord of Mists and his Host, not with our beloved queen so newly taken from us. Any injury or hurt done you is my fault, but I beg you understand. Using you was not my intent, but I could not squander the opportunity your presence here in the valley gave me."

I really didn't know what to say or think and for a few moments I just lay still. My cape had been dragged over me and it was warm and soft upon my shoulders. My mind turned things over slowly. It wasn't the Seelie King's fault I was here and he _had_ alerted me about the Unseelie. I supposed he was desperate, something I could well understand.

"I knew when I saw you the Lord of Mists would try everything in his power to obtain the Blue steel, and so I gave you what warning I could. I knew by your manners and bearing you would not easily yield to his ilk. Confrontation was inevitable, and my Host laid in wait for our chance."

I nodded, managing a faint smile.

"Our eternal gratitude is yours. Any service we can render, you have but to ask."

"I...I..." I was passing out. I caught myself with my elbows to keep from pitching forward. "I have not eaten since the morning I met you...my lord," I managed breathlessly.

I didn't see him gesture, but several of the attendants ran off. The Seelie King appraoched me, laying his tiny hand on my arm.

"Rest, Sir Knight. Food will be brought."

"Thank you," I whispered, dropping my head.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

They brought me food and weak wine. I wasn't exactly sure what it all was - roasted rabbit, something akin to potatoes, and stewed dried fruits - but it was enough for a light meal that restored and refreshed my poor, aching body. Whatever they had used to treat the cut on my shoulder kept it from being too painful and one of the healers checked it before I moved about. I learned from her that the cold of the Unseelie King had frozen my hands and burned a red weal around my throat and apparently I had quite the colorful collection of bruises. When I could stand again I saw that they had dragged my weapons and my sword belt close beside me. I strapped the belt back on and returned the knife to its sheath, but at the feel of Rhindon's blade in my hand I was overwhelmed and I dropped to one knee, bowing my head in thanksgiving.

"Aslan," I started, but so many thoughts and prayers and reactions whirled through my head I could say nothing. I knew he would understand, and so I let my thoughts rush pell-mell through my head. I would sort them out later. I drew a deep breath and let it escape in a shuddering sigh, then kissed the lion's head as was habit now before standing and sheathing the blade.

The Seelie King was watching and listening with interest. "You spoke of Aslan, and you bear a lion on your kingly steel. You are of Narnia, Land of Endless Winter?"

I smiled, the food making me feel better than I had in ages. "Majesty, I am Peter Pevensie, High King of Narnia. My brother and sisters and I reign, not winter. "

His surprise pleased me for some reason. I suppose it was because his delight was so genuine. He pressed his fingertips together and bowed deeply. "Well met, High King. I am King Tition, sixth of that name."

I bowed back, thinking there was no way I could look anything like a king.

"You have gone a-questing," Tition surmised.

"Yes. I'm returning to Narnia now in order to save my brother."

"Then I shall not hinder you. If you will allow me, I would be honored to escort you to the border of my realm so that we may talk as we go. Supplies will be laid in for you, such as we can provide."

"That would be most welcome and kind, King Tition."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We talked all the way, mostly about what had brought the Seelie/Unseelie War into being and Tition's plans for peace. He rode his fox and I walked alongside. Lords and attendants and guards on birds and small animals accompanied us, clearing a path. About an hour into the walk we came upon a second meal set up for me - trouts roasted over a fire. It was most welcome and the best fish I had ever eaten. Tition and his troop ate as well, another trout being more than enough to feed them all and the fox.

After three more hours of walking and climbing I saw Phillip waiting on the trail. At his hooves were several bundles of supplies and he had his head bent low as he talked to some of the fairies gathered on a rock. I broke into a trot to meet him, throwing my arms around his neck in a rough hug. He whinnied softly and leaned his head heavily against me, a horse's hug. I laughed to see him for I had missed him terribly these past few days. His constant presence had been a source of more comfort than I realized. Later on he told me that his own journey had been uneventful, just uncomfortable since he couldn't get his tack off and he needed a good roll to scratch his back.

The Seelie had filled him in on my exploits apparently, and he seemed more interested in how I was than what had happened. I introduced him to Tition and the fairy king greeted him warmly. The bundles contained supplied enough for a few days - dried meats and fish and fruits, plus hard bread which I gladly loaded into the saddlebags.

"When summer returns to the land, we must exchange embassages," insisted the Seelie King. "We will build bonds of friendship between our peoples."

"Nothing would please me more, King Tition," I replied. "You and your people will always be welcome in Narnia, and come the summer look for an embassy from Cair Paravel."

He bowed and I pressed my fingertips together as I returned the salute.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

With not a moment to lose, Phillip and I pressed on, trying desperately to stay ahead of the weather and reach the lower, more temperate regions before winter was hard upon us. I rode most of the time now simply because it was faster and my back and legs wouldn't tolerate much walking over the frozen earth. Even with the supplies provided by the Seelie Court, food was a distinct problem. Phillip devoured everything in sight whenever we stopped and I tried a shot at any animal I saw regardless of whether or not I considered it game. Crow wasn't so bad, but I didn't like fox or martin. Still, I ate everything I shot. I couldn't afford not to.

At night we huddled close and almost warm under the blankets. Sometimes, when we were forced to camp in the open, I built two fires for the extra heat and we would lay looking at the stars. Culros dipped low on the horizon now while the Dragon and Helen's Crown, herald of winter, blazed close and bright above us. I told him everything that had happened in the valley, both good and bad, and he was smug with pride that Edmund's gift should serve me so well even if it had been the fulcrum for so much conflict. Discussion of the fairies lead to stories of other fantastic creatures in this world. We talked about the fire-people that were the Stars, wondering what they looked like and if they ate anything and if they could see us as well as we could see them. It was quite silly stuff, but it amused us and kept our minds off of the cold, at least a little.

When we came to the lake where Lasa had enchanted me we paused and planned. Phillip was very nervous and I felt positively ill with dread. His fear of me being within a mile of an open body of water was catching. At least this lake meant we were a month away from Narnia and since the land was familiar we hoped to make better time than when we headed west.

Standing on the edge of the beautiful lake, I looked to the Horse. "If I try to get off you, bite me, kick me, drag me back by brute strength, Phillip, but don't let me near that water."

He stared at me, then said, "Use the reins and tie your hands to me. When we passed here before you were collapsing with fatigue. This way, if you fall asleep, I can keep going."

He was the wisest of Horses, for exactly that happened. Midway around the lake I was seized by a terrible thirst and fatigue, just as I had the first time. He ignored my undignified begging and whining to stop and moved at too fast a pace for me to safely dismount until I dropped into a sleep so deep I slept straight on until the following afternoon. I woke up sprawled across Phillip's neck with a mouthful of soggy mane and my rump far back in the saddle. He had walked all night and all day long, anxious to get me away from still water. I was groggy and useless the whole rest of the day, but another night's sleep restored me and I was able to thank him for saving me from a nasty fate, for I doubt Lasa would have ever released me if she had gotten her claws into me again.

From here the land dropped noticably, the mountains not quite as high as the ones by the Kraken pools or the Winged Horses. We struggled down steep slopes, waterfalls plunging hundreds of feet down just yards away. It had been hard climbing up this way and it was harder getting down, especially with the constant spray chilling us both and coating the land with ice. We passed the Giantish temple, passed the valley marked by mud slides, passed countless valleys and hills. It was only slighlty more temperate than what we had left, for we had not managed to keep ahead of the winter. Still, we found patches of hardy green plants here and there, which Phillip gladly ate, and I even found some last few nettles struggling against the cold. Much as I disliked the stuff, it was a bit of a change from a steady diet of lean meat, though it tasted only slightly better than lichen.

Then, to my dismay, the rains returned. Cold, freezing, biting rain that beat down so hard upon us it was painful. The Great River became swollen and violent, making going harder than ever. For a week and more we endured heavy storms on and off, the weather racing eastwards towards Narnia. Rain and sleet and yet more rain. It made me nervous. We were getting closer to the valley of the Slinn and we needed to find a route around that accursed place. I voiced my concerns to Phillip.

"We will have to circle those mountains, Majesty," he said simply.

"Easier said than done, good my Horse," I replied with a smile.

As it turned out, the option of going around was taken from us.

We were fast approaching the Slinn's home and we paused to rest in the same campsite we had used on the journey west. It was not far off the river. This spot placed us about ten or twelve days out of Narnia and we needed to address our situation.

I sat on a log and stretched out my legs despite the teeming rain. My boots were almost worn through and I had definitely grown a bit despite the dangerous amount of weight I had lost. By now I barely even qualified to be called 'skin and bones.' I was just bones. I ran my fingers through my hair and tied it back again - yes, I had finally succumed to aggrivation. I had just enough hair for a short pony tail and I could not wait to get home and rid myself of it.

Our situation was dire. Despite all my care, there was no food left. My last meal had been consumed this morning. I had found some dried mountain ash berries that I ate greedily as Phillip munched brown grass at my feet. I was down to the last dozen arrows which I badly needed for game, even though we hadn't seen any animals or birds for several days. With a bow string falling prey to humidity, I could hunt neither game nor Slinn, so we had no choice but to go around the valley. How long that would take I couldn't guess, and so we rested and decided on what to do.

"Can we climb the mountain and follow the ridge down to the next valley and pick up the trail, or would it be best to go around the mountain entirely?" I wondered aloud. I paused, listening. I thought I heard distant thunder.

Phillip pondered, chewing. "Over the ridge would be more dangerous and possibly harder, but faster."

"In truth, Phillip, right now I think speed is everything. Not just for Edmund's sake, but for ours. We're both exhausted and underweight and this land doesn't seem to hold hospitality in the same high esteem as Narnia. There's almost nothing to eat our here and I'm afraid I'm going to have to cook lichen for dinner."

He shuddered, having tasted the stuff.

"We'll try the ridge," I decided. "If the Slinn spill over the ridge we'll skirt their territory as best we can."

"As sound a plan as any, King Peter." As he spoke rumble echoed off the mountains, closer this time.

I found myself frowning. That didn't sound quite like thunder. Standing up, I tried to see through the trees. Phillip likewise looked up river, his ears far forward.

"What is that?" he asked.

I shook my head. I could feel the rumble now in the earth and air. It wasn't an earthquake.

_"RUN!"_ I cried, swinging myself up into the saddle. I had time for neither reins nor stirrups, I just clung to him for dear life as he ran for higher ground.

We were too late. A violent, gray-brown wall of water swept down through the floor of the valley with a terrible roar, consuming everything in its path. Born of weeks of rain, the flash flood carried earth and trees and debris in its maw. We tried to escape, racing for the hills, but the ground was uncertain and there was no clear path. I screamed Aslan's name as I felt Phillip stagger. Tons of water raced by us, dragging at his legs. He fell, a Horse's awful, harrowing scream escaping him. I was snatched away by the tumult of icy water and deafening sound as the Great River swallowed us both, dragging us along in its unchecked fury.


	36. Chapter ThirtyFive: Nightmare

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Nightmare**

_That night, washed up on the riverbank, I dreamt._

_As with most of my dreams, even when I'm in them, I was observing from the outside, like standing on the stage in the midst of a play as the actors move and speak. The setting was again Cair Paravel. It was night and there was a storm raging outside, a violent and wild tempest moving westward to the sea, the same storm that had caused the Great River to become my enemy. I was watching Lucy as she ran through the corridors of the palace searching for something. She was growing increasingly frightened as she hurried from room to room. There were others searching, too, but the dream focused on my youngest sister. _

"_Edmund!" she called, bursting into another chamber. "Edmund! Where are you?"_

_I followed, wishing I could speak to her, but this was a dream. Her fear seemed genuine, though._

"_Edmund! Please! It's almost midnight!"_

_Then I realized why she was afraid._

_Dread gripped me and my heart was racing. Was he deliberately not answering? No, he promised me he would wait. He would carry on. He would not lose faith in me. He would _not _purposely do this to me or his sisters, tempted though he might be by constant pain. Where was Aslan? _

_Lucy looked past me, unheeding. I turned as Martil's voice echoed down the hall._

"_My queen!"_

_She seized the Faun's arms. "Martil! Martil, where is my brother?"_

"_He went to the stables over an hour ago to help Mrs. Tibs move her kittens to inside the palace."_

_Lucy paled. "Celer said the footbridge was washed away. Find Oreius and tell him where Edmund went."_

"_My lady, where are you going?"_

"_I have to get to him! Get Oreius! Quickly!"_

_Lucy ran down and down and down, deep into the castle, all the way to the ground level. She ran through the kitchens to the wooden doors on the western side of the Cair. I knew she was going to try to reach the stables. She knew that was where Edmund lay. I heard Susan screaming her name, trying to get her to stop, but Lucy threw open the door and raced into the raging storm beyond. I went too, unaffected by the dark or lashing rain. She was soaked through instantly, holding up her arm to guard her face. The path had turned to a muddy stream. Even in the darkness, I could tell as much. What was she thinking? _

_She was thinking of Edmund and of midnight._

_I couldn't be mad at her even in my dreams. Instead, I was frightened beyond words. The storm wasn't the worst I had ever seen, but it was bad enough and she stumbled against the wind, her dress whipping around her legs. I wanted desperately to help._

_Suddenly she screamed as the soil beneath her feet gave way and she slid towards the stream that was swollen with rain and had turned into a raging river. She was going to drown, going to be washed away. She would die. Edmund would die. I felt panic seize me and I lunged_.

"NO!"

I woke up, struggling upright on the riverbank. I opened my eyes and for one glorious instant I was looking straight into Aslan's golden eyes.

_Hurry_, his voice echoed in my mind, then with a roar he lunged after Lucy...

I gasped, trembling and afraid. I was up to my knees in rushing water, my body thrown in a tangled heap on a pile of broken branches and plants and dead animals and refuse caught in a small inlet along the river. I stumbled unsteadily to my feet and dragged myself up onto the riverbank. I looked around desperately, but I was still in the Western Wild, not at Cair Paravel.

"Lucy?" I called uselessly, staring into the darkness. I shoved my long, wet hair out of my eyes, dazed and confused. Edmund. Had they reached him in time?

I never wanted to dream again. Waking up had brought no relief from the nightmare.

I took a few deep breaths, recovering and in a moment's panic double-checking to make sure the apple really was still in the satchel. I felt the lump beneath my clothes and let out a shuddering sigh. I was cut and bleeding and felt as if I had been beaten by a Giant. My head was burning and I probed the area. I had a long cut on the back of my head to my neck and my ribs were so sore I knew they were heavily bruised and probably cracked. Somehow I was still dressed, though my clothes were torn and shredded in a dozen spots and my heavy cloak was gone. I stood as straight as I could manage, fell over in the mud when I got dizzy and my left knee gave out, then climbed back to my feet and surveyed my surroundings. Clouds whipped past the moon, making the light sketchy, but it seemed the rain was over for now. How far had the flood carried us?

"Phillip?" I croaked. I coughed and spit up foul water, but I felt better for it. "Phillip?"

I stared at the wide, angry river. It seemed somehow wrong. It should have been moving the other direction. It took a few seconds for my dazed mind to catch up and I saw I was on the north side, the opposite bank than what we had traveled all this time. After a moment of astonishment I shook myself. It wouldn't be so difficult to cross once the flood died down a bit. I sighed and started to follow the river downstream, alert for Phillip at every step.

It was then that I realized I had much bigger problems than being on the wrong side of the river.

There was a smell of putrid filth and decay. I looked at the withered, wilted trees far up from the banks with horror.

I was in the valley of the Slinn.

Now I understood what Aslan had meant. He hadn't told me to hurry as much for Edmund's sake as for my own.


	37. Chapter ThirtySix: Deliverance

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Deliverance**

I didn't dare stop. If I stopped, I would succumb to the cold and I'd never be able to start up again.

My first order of business had been to free Rhindon from its sheath. It seemed as if this should be a simple task, but the metal sheath was indented and jammed full of mud and filth and _I couldn't get it out. _Finally, after minutes of fruitless struggling, I took off the belt, braced the sheath between my knees, and yanked for all I was worth. With a horrible squeal of metal from the sword and a loud grunt of effort from me, the blade came free. I tumbled to my rump in the mud and tried to see the sword in the moonlight. I was sure it had to be scratched, but I had armorers back at the palace that could deal with that. I anxiously inspected it to be sure the blade wasn't bent and regained my feet. I checked for the apple again. The satchel was still secure under my clothes, held fast by my sword belt. I pulled it out and unwrapped the small fruit. It was beautiful, perfect, unblemished and unwithered and glowed faintly silver. I wished I could prove half as resilient. I shook the dirt from the linen handkerchief wrapped around it and tucked it away again. I checked my knife, thanked Aslan that I had somehow survived intact and prayed Phillip had done the same, and set off eastwards as quickly as I could manage.

I stared at the empty ground along the river. Everything had been swept away, scoured down to the rock. Not a tree, not a stick, not a hint of life along the banks. The flood, for all its violence, had wiped the valley clean. The surface of the moon could not be more desolate. I hoped the flood had taken all the Slinn with it. The stench was less, replaced by the stink of mud and death, so it was simply replacing one reek with another.

The clouds cleared rapidly, whiskey away by the biting wind and showing the brilliant white stars beyond. My hair dried rapidly, my clothes, caked with mud and whatever other filth was swirling in the water, less so. I kept moving at a fast walk, jogging when the terrain allowed. I couldn't manage more and wanted to keep some energy in reserve in case I needed to bolt or fight. I scanned the ground before me without pause, alert for Slinn behind every rock. To my right the Great River raged and splashed as the effects of the flash flood died down. Nothing looked familiar and I was very exposed as I moved alongside the river. Occasionally I paused to check behind me, but there was nothing.

I prayed as I walked, a desperate mantra racing in a jumble through my mind. I doubt even Aslan could make sense of more than the fear coursing through me. At least it gave me the strength to move on, that and his command to hurry.

_Aslan, protect me from the Slinn. Be at my back. Guide me and warn me, mighty Lion. Keep me from the Slinn and the Slinn well away from me. Help me, Aslan, help me through this valley. Protect Phillip. Let me find him whole and well. Deliver us from this place. Aslan, what happened to Lucy? Save her. Please, save her from the storm. Save us all from the storm. You said it would be difficult and dangerous but I had no idea. Not that it matters. I still would be here. Phillip, where are you? Aslan, is Edmund alive? Is Lucy? I can't live without them. I love them and I love you and please get me out of this place! Did you reach her, so she could reach him? Watch over my brother. He's more fragile than he'll ever admit. Aslan, protect my family. Please, please, keep them safe, I need them, I need you, oh, Alsan help me, what was _that?

I skidded to a halt in the mud. A hissing noise met my ears. I looked around, terrified, but saw nothing, and so I carefully picked my way forward, Rhindon at the ready and my heart racing. Gradually the noise grew louder and I saw movement up ahead in the moonlight.

It was the Slinn.

There were several dozens of the creatures assembled and it was a minute or more before I realized not all of them were alive. There was a slight bend in the river and heaps of refuse had built up. Twisted amidst the wreckage and stretched out on the rocks were the huge, pale carcasses of several dead Slinn. Smaller versions of the fox-headed eels were ripping at the bodies, fighting for better access as they cannibalized their dead...and the nearly dead.

I stared in horror, feeling sick and cold and not just from the weather. Fighting my revulsion and trying not to hear or see more than I needed to survive this terrible place, I pushed on desperately, darting from cover to cover as best I could. The feeding frenzy was going on far up enough on the bank that I had room to pass if I could make it undetected. They were so engrossed I probably could have strolled right by, but I wasn't inclined to test that theory. The mud beneath my feet was slick and clinging, and my sore and abused body couldn't respond as I would have liked. I fell more than once, jarring my knee and discovering a thousand other ways to hurt above and beyond what I felt already. I barely noticed.

Suddenly the mud before moved and a Slinn about the same size as I reared up. It hissed savagely at me, its breath foul and its sinewy body shivering with ferocity. I let out a shout, laying into the hideous thing with Rhindon before it could strike. It dropped, wounded, thrashing in the mud, and our cries drew the attention of the others. I didn't pause. I didn't dare. I struggled through the thick mud, fighting to reach higher ground.

_Aslan, keep me alert. Help me out of this awful place. As you love me, great Lion, be at my back-_

I whirled, swinging Rhindon in a wide arc.

Another Slinn dropped with a splat! into the mud, dead. I looked around, but the only live Slinn in sight were busy with their obscene feast. Slowly I lowered my sword.

"Thank you, mighty Aslan," I whispered.

OoOoOo

I saw no more live Slinn until the crack of dawn, though I stumbled across many more dead than I cared to count. I could only guess that part of the reason this place was so desolate and blighted was because they were grossly overpopulated. No more, it seemed, and most of the ones I saw that had survived were on the small side. I suppose that's why I survived as well, at least in part. I attributed the rest to Aslan's protection and his warning to high-tail it out of there while the Slinn were too busy cannibalizing their own kin to take much note of me.

I was so cold I couldn't believe such a thing as warmth existed anywhere in the world and I'm certain if I hadn't been moving my clothes would have frozen. I did find a spot to cross the river - a narrow ford where several downed trees formed a rude bridge. I wouldn't advise crossing slick tree trunks with a naked sword in hand, but once drawn there was no way I was going to be able to return Rhindon to its sheath without some repairs. The trail we had followed was wiped out, but that didn't matter.

I only realized exactly how far I had been swept down river when the land began to rise again. I was almost at the far end of the valley. I was so surprised that I stopped for a moment, looking back the way I'd come. The yellow sunrise gave the valley a sickly haze.

Then I heard a shrill scream that thrilled and frightened me in equal measure.

Phillip.

I ran as fast as I could, forgetting my knee and my ribs and everything else as a rush of anxiety gave me speed. The scream came again, closer, and I skidded to a halt and dashed up the slope to the newly carved tree line. The dead forest looked like the bones of some great dinosaur and I wasn't hampered by undergrowth as I plunged into the woods.

"Phillip!" I called as loudly as I could. My voice cracked with the effort. Where was he?

Another long, angry whinny echoed off the hills. I needed to go further down river. I forced my way through the brittle woods, ignoring the new scratches I acquired. As the light increased I could see through the trees and there was movement in a clearing ahead. With a shout of fury I threw myself shoulder-first through the branches barring my path. I landed heavily on stone and gray mud that looked as if it had been made from ash.

Phillip. The Horse's long reins were tangled in the branches of a fallen tree and he fought against the restrains to defend himself against four Slinn that were trying to draw close enough to strike. There were two small Slinn trampled to death at his hooves and one of the remaining four was bleeding from its eye. They slithered this way and that around him, avoiding his sharp hooves and getting into each other's way. They didn't notice me.

Yet.

A kind of fury took possession of me. I was exhausted, sore, and I wanted not just to _go_ home, but to _be _home. No fuzzy, fox-headed snake was going to stop me or my friend. I had felt this sensation before at Beruna and against the rebel trees - a controlled burn. It wasn't anger, but pure power. My body moved on its own accord, with a grace and precision I could match only rarely outside of pitched battle, and it felt as if I was detached from my own form and watching myself move. Oreius said this was a state of pure instinct, the mindless mind of a warrior, and it was for this that Edmund and I trained so constantly. It came easier to Edmund than to me, which was why he excelled at duels. Our teachers were astonished that we could reach it at all, given our ages.

But oh, when I reached this state! Not even Edmund wanted to come near me after he saw me disarm Celer and back Oreius into a corner.

The nearest Slinn I sliced from head almost to tail, killing it instantly. Rhindon's keen edge cut through hide and flesh and brittle bones. I didn't stop, but brought the sword straight down onto the next monster's neck. The awful creature screamed and turned on me even as it collapsed into a bloody, dying heap. The remaining two split apart to my left and right, hissing at me. One was fairly large - about twice my size, the other slightly smaller.

_"Slinn!"_

I stood between then, Rhindon at the ready. I could just see each beast at the corner of my vision. Phillip was behind me, his breath coming in loud gasps. I waited, knowing they would move first.

_"Ssssss!"_

Left went high, right went low.

I jumped backwards.

Both Slinn checked themselves, hissing savagely at each other before turning on me. They switched roles this time and right went high. I lunged to the right, sweeping the tip of my sword upwards until it was just under the Slinn's rounded jaw, then I thrust it far forward, driving the sword through its throat.

In those precious seconds, the other creature got too close to my good cousin, Phillip. The tone of his horsy scream was no longer afraid as he smashed and slashed the Slinn with his hooves. Rearing up, Phillip brought his full weight down on the thing's head. It raged and hissed and pulled away. Blood splashed in the gray mud as I reversed my grip on Rhindon and plunged the sword into the thing's side. It thrashed a moment then dropped like a stone.

"Peter!"

I yanked my sword free and rushed to loosen the reins from the tree branches.

"You're hurt!"

"So are you," he replied breathlessly.

I shook my head. "We have to get out of here. We're almost at the end of the valley. The ground was rising when I crossed the river."

"The apple?"

"We should be so indestructible. Can you move?"

"Yes."

I took a moment to unstrap his saddle and straighten it and the blanket beneath. I gathered up the reins and mounted up, still carrying Rhindon and not about to put the sword away until I had a good ten miles between me and this hellish valley.

We didn't speak. I listened and watched as Phillip picked his path, cold seeping back into my body. My confused prayer to Aslan ran through my aching head.

_See us clear of this place, Aslan. Please, see us clear. Thank you for Phillip. Thank you for our lives. We won't waste them or this opportunity. Keep them safe, Aslan. Is the storm past? Oh, my head! I'm bleeding? Oh, Aslan help us both._

And on and on, my thoughts and reactions and feelings spilling over into an endless litany.

I almost cheered when I saw leaves blow across the trail. Phillip had been climbing the gentle slope for some time now and through the blighted trees we could see color beyond. I had never thought of brown leaves as glorious, but the valley of the Slinn gave me a whole new appreciation for color.

At the edge of the valley I dismounted and slumped along to spare Phillip, who walked with increasing difficulty. We finally talked. I learned that he had struggled above the wall of water after I was swept away, then followed the swell as quickly as he could, keeping just above the high water mark. The Slinn had been caught in the flood, their dens awash, and they had been too occupied devouring the drowned to pay much heed to Phillip until the reins had caught and pinned him. I supposed he was too tempting a target for the beasts to pass by.

"I was on the other bank," I said. "I got smashed into a pile of branches."

"I should have seen you!"

"I was out cold, Phillip."

We reached the crest of a hill far down river from the Slinn. To our left the Great River wove past the hill, still rapid, but turning back to its lazy self as it exhausted its supply of rain and runoff. The sun was up, the wane sunlight bringing little actual warmth. I was grateful for it nonetheless. I was even more grateful to find a downed tree housing a squirrel's cache of nuts - black walnuts and walnuts and even some hazelnuts in great quantities among the acorns. Phillip ate browned grass as I cracked a few handfuls of the nuts with a rock, the black walnuts staining my gloves yellow.

After we ate it was time to take stock of ourselves and our situation. I pulled the saddle and bridle off the Horse to inventory our supplies. My cloak was gone, but my heavy wool blanket had been tied to the saddle and that would do as well to keep me warm for now. Most everything that hadn't been tied down - the bow and arrows, the cooking pot, the hammer for the horse shoes, the shoes and nails, Phillip's combs, among other things - was gone. I was particularly discouraged to see the iron was missing, though I found the flint wedged in a fold of the leather pouch. When we made camp tonight I'd try the stone against every scrap of metal we carried - from Rhindon to Phillip's horseshoes - to try to produce a spark. I dumped every single one of the edible nuts into the saddlebag, the bulge they caused comforting to my spirits and stomach, and as I did so I discovered we still had the hatchet. I laid our blankets out to dry and peeled off my boots the leather jerkin, laying them on some flat rocks in the sun. They needed to be dry before night or I'd have hypothermia by dawn tomorrow. Shivering, I tried to keep busy and moving.

Phillip was in approximately the same shape as I. Bruised, battered, swollen, boasting dozens of cuts and splinters - every square inch of him ached for one reason or another. His tail in particular was painful, and I think he might have broken or dislocated some of the bones in it. He had a nasty scrape on his flank which I cleaned as best I could, and there was a long cut across his nose that looked painful. He had lost a shoe and I used a stick to clean the packed mud and grit out his hooves.

"King Peter?"

"Yes?" I looked up from his hoof.

For all his fatigue there was a smile in his brown eyes as he said, "I remember this place."

I couldn't imagine how, since everywhere looked pretty much the same to me. "Do you?"

"We were but nine days out of Narnia when we camped here."

I gasped, my mouth falling open and I dropped his hoof. "You're certain?"

"Yes."

I stared at the mid-morning sun. We had the whole day before us. I looked back at him and in that moment we had the identical idea.

"Let's go."


	38. Chapter ThirtySeven: Five Days

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Five Days**

"Phillip, how far from Narnia would you say we are now?"

The Horse paused, looking around. "I think we passed this place a week after setting out, King Peter. No. Five days."

"Five days," I echoed softly, forcing my exhausted mind to focus. I looked up at the gathering clouds. The wind carried a scent of rain and I knew it would be upon us by evening. My voice was raspy from a sore throat as I said, "Five more nights for Edmund. Phillip, I don't want to stop and make camp again. We'll rest at night, but during the day we cannot delay. Five days, Phillip, and we're home."

He thought for a few moments. "Take off the saddle, my king. We'll leave all the gear we don't need. Keep the blankets."

It didn't take long for me to sort through what was left of our equipment and supplies and Phillip tore at the faded grass as I worked. I kept the smallest of the saddlebags, the hatchet, Phillip's saddle blanket, the flint, and the last few handfuls of nuts. I was already wearing all the clothes I had brought - that I had tightened my sword belt two notches past its normal spot again despite all the clothes was sad testimony to my state of health. The pile of abandoned equipment seemed pathetically small.

"Look, majesty," said Phillip, indicating something on the ground by his hoof. I looked at the small, faded green plant and smiled.

"Wild fresney," I said, absurdly pleased at the sight of the familiar herb.

"Eat it, King Peter," he ordered. "You have not eaten today. You cannot go on like this for five days more. Eat it all."

In truth I wasn't hungry, but I knew full well he was right and I carefully dug it free with the knife Edmund had made me. The whole plant is edible and it boasts a long tap root that tastes somewhat like parsnip, only better. Phillip found two more and made sure I dug them all up.

"I'll wash them in the river and eat on the way," I promised, tucking them into the saddlebag. Raw vegetables did not appeal right now, but I would eat every bit of every root. I spread the blanket across his back, threw the saddlebag over his flanks and climbed on, taking up the reins.

"Much lighter," commented the Horse. "Come. We'll stop at the river, then press on."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

My feet slid a bit before gaining purchase in the mud as I tried to press myself further back into the meager shelter of the overhang of rock and earth. Another storm raged overhead, turning the river into a mighty torrent and forcing us to hide in the only cover we could find before the lightning started. Phillip shifted nervously. I think he was more anxious for me than the storm even though I know he disliked thunder. He said something to me, but I shook my head, unable to hear him above the roar of wind and water. I clutched my right arm close to me, panting as I tried not to pass out from pain. It was broken, I knew, and there was nothing to do for it now except suffer.

"Sit," Phillip finally made himself heard. He nudged me with his nose and I turned too quickly, triggering such nausea that I doubled over and was sick. My stomach was empty and I spit up naught but bile before collapsing to my knees in the mud. Phillip stood close enough to brace me against the back of the shelter. I leaned my head against his leg and gasped for air, trying to pray and failing utterly as fresh pain pressed down upon me and high wind and rain lashed us both.

Three days after deciding not to stop we had gotten caught in a rock slide. If we both hadn't been so very weary we might have avoided it, but somehow I doubt it, for the slide had been wide and sudden. We were passing through the jagged, rocky canyon we had seen thirty miles west of Caldron Pool when a small river of broken stone and dirt and vegetation had swept down upon us. Phillip had bolted and I had fallen off just in time to catch a large rock against my arm and side. My ribs were already heavily bruised and the added blow was absolute agony, but I knew instantly that the bones in my forearm had snapped. It took me most of the afternoon to rig a means to splint it using some maple saplings laboriously cut down and strips of the blanket, tied taut with two spare bowstrings I found in the saddlebag. Phillip had suffered a few minor cuts to his legs and right flank, not enough to stop him. Having nothing else, I used the last of Lucy's handkerchiefs to bind the worst cut on his fetlock. Just as I finished tending him the storm kicked up and we had hastened to find shelter.

Thirty miles. Thirty miles until Narnia and home. It didn't matter where I was in Narnia: Glasswater or the Dancing Lawn or the cellar Cair Paravel, every inch of it was home to me. We could do that in a day, two at the most. If we were lucky, we could get back to Caldron Pool before I was laid low by fever, because I knew it was inevitable with such a bad break. If we weren't lucky...well, Phillip could go on ahead and get help.

The apple was a small bulge in the satchel on my hip. My thoughts touched on it briefly, more because it was uncomfortable than I had any interest in what it could do for me. I had come too far, too long to be swayed by temptation. In truth I couldn't even concentrate on it very long, I just knew it was not for me. Besides, though it granted immortality, who was to say it also granted good health and freedom from pain?

I looked out at the storm, too cold and wet and sick to try to move. Lightning illuminated the landscape in weird contrasts of dazzling light and shadow. Was it midnight? Were Susan and Lucy sitting up with Edmund, waiting for that awful gasp and the gush of blood? Were they wondering where I was now, praying for me to return? I could use those prayers right now. I couldn't think of anything else that would keep me moving. I hoped Aslan was with them still, watching over Edmund.

Despair settled upon me and I smiled, leaning against the Horse's muddy leg in the heart of a storm.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The next thing I clearly remembered was waking up on Phillip's back, riding slumped with my right arm cradled on my lap and the reins loose in my left hand. He was walking slowly to balance me. Each step jarred my arm slightly.

"Phillip?" I rasped, trying to straighten.

"Twenty miles to go, King Peter. How are you? Did you sleep?"

"I suppose. I think I have a fever." My clothes were damp and the wind was bitterly cold, but I didn't care. Twenty miles. Less than a day's ride. The only thing I had to do was not die and all would be well in just a few days. I wanted to cheer, but even breathing deeply enough to talk triggered dry heaves in my stomach and I barely managed to slide off Phillip's back before I fell to my knees and vomited. The spell seemed to last forever and I wasn't sure I'd be able to get on his back again.

"Peter," whispered Phillip, nuzzling my neck, sharing my misery.

I sat back on my heels. "I can't get up."

"Lay hold of my bridle. I'll help you."

I gripped his bridle in my left hand and he managed to haul me upright. I wavered, my vision darkening a moment. I only managed to get back on him by standing on a fallen tree trunk.

"Hold on. I'll walk carefully."

I could only stare at his mane and ears, seeing nothing around us, too sick and weary and close to starvation to do much else. My arm was burning hot and pure agony. I was sweating despite the cold and more than once I almost fell off, lulled into a stupor by pain and fatigue.

"Peter! King Peter!"

I roused with a start. It was late afternoon. We were out of the gorge and following the Great River over the rocky terrain dotted with low blueberry bushes and scrub pine. I glanced around, lacking the strength to be alarmed. If we were being attacked I was going down. I couldn't even draw my sword, having forgotten until that moment to shift it to my right hip.

"Majesty, look up! Look to the east!"

I obeyed, squinting at the darkening horizon. I saw a fluid, graceful form dark against the sky, weaving through the pinkish clouds with amazing agility. On the breeze I heard a shrill screech like an Eagle's cry.

"Cyn," I breathed, recognizing the Gryphon scout even at this distance. He had a distinct way of folding his wings to dive, unmistakable to miss. Hope surged in my breast and I didn't even try to stop my tears. "Phillip, it's Cyn."

I was completely startled when Phillip let out a loud whinny, then another, and I seized his mane for balance. I saw Cyn hesitate in mid-air, then come wheeling back west. He swooped low over the trees and water, keen eyes searching for the source of the sound. Phillip neighed again and the Gryphon twisted on the wind, screeching out his excitement and joy as he spotted us. In less than five minutes he was overhead, one of the best sights I have ever seen. With another exalting call the half-lion, half-eagle creature came to a landing just a few yards away, jogging to a stop.

"King Peter!" he cried. "Phillip! King Peter, thank Aslan!" He bowed low to me, then his eyes grew wide as he took in my condition. If I looked half as awful as I felt then I was a truly frightening sight.

"Well met, Cyn," I said hoarsely, my throat and ears aching. "How is my brother?"

"He awaits you in Cair Paravel, sire," he replied, not really answering my question. I hoped it was simply a case of Cyn just not knowing. "King Peter, are you injured?"

"Yes," I said softly, "and I am ill. General Oreius said he would post soldiers by Caldron Pool."

"Oreius is there now, Majesty, at King Edmund's command, and he has sent scouts out continaully in anticipation of your return."

I nodded, trying to think of what to say next. I could barely think, let alone form a plan of action.

Phillip spoke up, bless him. "Send for him, Cyn. The king can ride no further. Have Oreius bring food and medicines to treat his majesty. His foreleg is broken and he has a fever. We will wait in this exact spot. Hurry."

"Can you build a fire?" asked Cyn, casting a nervous look at the swiftly darkening sky.

"I'll try," I replied, feeling faint. I slid off of Phillip's back, staggering as my legs almost gave out. I clung to the Horse with my left arm, fighting to stay conscious.

Cyn looked anxiously at Phillip, panic in his yellow eyes.

"Hurry," Phillip ordered.

I didn't even notice that Cyn had left until Phillip nudged me. Between us we gathered some fallen branches and old wood and after many attempts, I managed to produce a spark against the blade of the hatchet. The fire was small, but it was warm. I wrapped the blanket around me and moved close to Phillip where he settled by the little blaze. I was very cold and I finally laid me down, unable to go on.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Shh. Shh, my king. All is well."

I woke with a gasp and a violent start, struggling against the hands holding me. I heard voices. Who were they? Where was I? My arm ached. My throat was afire. Fever dreams scattered as wildly as my thoughts.

"Rest easy, King Peter," said a deep voice. I looked over and saw Oreius by the light of a large fire. He rested on the ground beside me, one hand on my chest. Closing my eyes in relief, I dropped my head down and landed on a pillow. I was clean and warm and dry and wrapped in soft blankets. This was the finest bed I had ever slept in.

"The apple -" I breathed, remembering and trying to sit up.

"Your things are safely here," he promised, still pinning me with one hand. "Nothing has been touched or moved."

I dropped down again with a sigh, seeing the satchel with its bulge of cloth-wrapped apple.

"Before you sleep you must eat something," the Centaur said gently but insistently, the familiar voice of my sword master as he taught me and Edmund to be warriors.

I shook my head, and he returned the gesture.

"I know you don't feel hungry, my king, but you are starving and weak. Eat a little now and more at dawn. We will be in Narnia on the morrow."

Someone, a Holly Dryad I think, brought him a bowl of food, then helped to prop me up with blankets and saddlebags so that I could eat. Oreius set the bowl in my lap and handed me a spoon and watched sharply until I started eating. It was venison stew and delicious beyond words. I ate slowly and awkwardly with my left hand. My right arm had been splinted anew and was far less painful than before, though I was reluctant to talk because my throat and ears hurt so very badly. Still, there were a few things I needed to know and I rasped,

"How are the girls?"

The good general was used to me referring to my sisters the queens so casually and he smiled faintly. "A little older than you left them but otherwise unchanged save for worry over you and your brother."

"And Edmund? How is he?"

His face, usually so hard and controlled, softened visibly. "He is as weary as you, King Peter."

I closed my eyes, unable to eat any more. Poor Edmund. Oh, my poor little brother.

"Phillip?"

"Full of oats and dreaming. Now sleep," whispered Oreius, easing me back down and handing the half-empty bowl of stew to the Dryad. He drew the blankets closer around me, smoothing the hair out of my eyes with a gentle hand. "Sleep, Majesty. You'll be home tomorrow and all will be well."

I could do naught but obey.


	39. Chapter ThirtyEight: Home is the Hunter

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Home is the Hunter**

"King Peter? Arise, good king, your country awaits!"

Appealing as it sounded, I still wasn't equal to the task and I cracked my eyes open to see a pretty willow Dryad smiling at me cheerfully. She carried a bowl of water and I realized I was terribly thirsty. I glanced around the camp as I sat up and took the bowl. There seemed to be considerably more people here than had been last night. They must have traveled through the darkness to reach me. I drank the water and I realized it was from Narnia, for even after a night in a waterskin it still tasted better than anything I had drunk in months. I downed every drop and immediately regretted it as nausea slammed hard upon me like a blow. I handed back the bowl and twisted away, trying hard not to be sick. I wasn't successful and the pain of my cracked ribs almost sent me out cold.

I felt a small hand on my back as I knelt there quietly spitting up what I had drunk. A Dwarf, probably one of the army's healers, stood beside me. He rubbed soothing circles on my back, speaking comforting words and supporting me. Finally the spasm eased. I smiled faintly at the guilt-ridden Willow, saying hoarsely, "It's all right. No harm done."

She didn't seem convinced, but bowed and hurried off. With a damp cloth the Dwarf wiped my face and neck, then pressed a cup of herbal tea on me. It tasted awful, but immediately it calmed my stomach and I gladly finished the warm drink. "Please," I said to the Dwarf, a bright-eyed, bright-haired Red Dwarf, "tell her it's all right. I shouldn't have drunk so much."

He smiled reassuringly. "I will, sire. She's young and those Willows have thin bark."

He helped me to dress in another layer of clothes borrowed from someone in the army. The red tunic and leggings were too large, but clean and warm. I struggled upright with the Dwarf's help and all activity in the camp stopped. Turning to face me, every Narnian bowed deeply. I stared, startled. Not that their conduct was anything out of the ordinary, but it seemed an eternity since I had felt the love they bore for me and my siblings.

"Thank you," I said, though my voice was little better than a whisper. "I thank you all for coming so far to help me. I -"

I wavered, my legs buckling, but before I could hit the ground (dragging the good Dwarf with me) Oreius scooped me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing. Perhaps at this point I didn't.

"Rest easy. I will carry you for now, my king," he promised, motioning to one of the attendants. Moments later I was wrapped in a warm cloak and cradled in the Centaur's arms. I slept then, able to fight the fever and darkness no longer.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I awoke in Narnia.

Just over the border, right at the base of Caldron Pool, I roused long enough to register that I was home and in the tiny encampment that Oreius had established for when I returned. For the first time in months I had a roof over my head even if it was just made of fabric. They tried to get me to eat again, but I could manage only a little bit. I could tell Oreius was distressed and I was sorry for it, but the thought of food only made me feel sicker. The fever still gripped me and I dozed, wandering in and out of awareness. My arm started to ache again and my throat and ears felt afire.

"Aslan is at the Lantern Waste," I heard a voice say through the hazy veil of stupor. It sounded like Celer. "He said he would wait there."

Aslan? I felt my heart thrill and the sound of the name filled me with hope, if only for a few moments. Some little time later I roused, dragging myself upright. By the time the alarmed Dwarf healer noticed, I had swung my legs over the edge of the cot and sat up, holding the bandages on my smarting ribs with my left hand.

"Majesty, you mustn't move yet," he insisted. "You're feverish and weak."

And what was Edmund? The dreams were haunting me. I motioned for the Dwarf to decist. "Get my boots and my sword." Rhindon, its sheath repaired, hung on the tent pole just out of reach.

"Sire!" he protested.

"Now," I ordered. "I'm going to the Lantern Waste."

Moments later Oreius stepped into the tent, filling it with his presence as I struggled to stand. He took one look at me and simply asked, "King Peter?"

"I'm going to Aslan."

He knew me, he knew my tone of voice, and he knew when not to argue. His eyes grew wide and he ignored the gesturing Dwarf. "I'll prepare Phillip and an escort."

As he hurried off I looked back at the frustrated healer. "My boots, good Dwarf, and my sword."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Normally the ride between Caldron Pool and the Lantern Waste was a matter of two or three hours at a liesurely pace. That day, riding Phillip in a fevered stupor, it took me twice that.

Oreius walked right beside me. More than once his strong hand and arm were the only things that kept me from toppling over. On the other side strode Celer, the Faun captain that had helped lead the army at Beruna. They talked quietly to Phillip, but I paid them no heed. They chose the path since I was completely incapable of doing anything for myself. It took everything I had left to simply stay seated on Phillip. The good Horse walked slowly, picking the smoothest, most level course he could. Twice we reached steep inclines that I'd normally dismount and climb down myself. Both times Oreius simply plucked me off of Phillip's back and carried me down, gently setting me back where he'd found me at the bottom. I was so grateful he understood that I needed to do this regardless of the cost.

Autumn was well upon Narnia and winter was nipping at our heels. The Trees were long past their height of color, the glorious autumn foliage in which they took such pride as each Dryad tried to outdo their neighbor. I didn't care. I was still struck by the immense beauty of my country. The wind was cool and carried the scent of old leaves and balsam pine and even though it made me shiver uncontrollably and hurt my ears, I breathed deeply, savoring the scent of the season. For a little while we followed the river, then angled inland. I noticed immediately the lack of noise, so used was I to to the sound of rushing water. The river had been my companion as surely as Phillip for months and I looked back one last time to bid it goodbye for a time.

How I made it to the Lantern Waste I cannot say, so dazed was I with fever and pain and hunger. I didn't find out until much later how long it took for the band of soldiers to escort me there and I knew I would never have made it without them. It seemed at once mere minutes and an eternity, like when Rhye said we could fly around the Garden in moments or take a lifetime to fly over it. Our route brought us back to the Great River, but in this part of Narnia it was gentle and calm and quiet with lush banks and tall trees, a delight to the senses. An encampment was set up: pavilions and banners and soldiers and Animals milling about. I heard trumpets and dimly realized they were for me, announcing the arrival of the High King. Narnians of all kinds rushed over to see us, joy turning to shock at my and Phillip's appearance and back to joy. They lined the route right up to a large tent just as they had lined the road from Cair Paravel when I left this past summer. Even as Phillip plodded forward, Aslan stepped out of the tent. Brighter than the sun, he so shone golden and warm and magnificent against the red cloth of the pavilion that I squinted. He waited for me, his eyes alight with pride.

Carefully, with Oreius's hands hovering close to me, I dismounted. Despite the Centaur's caution I slipped out of his grasp and collapsed almost to the ground, jarring my broken arm. The pain cleared my head for a moment and I looked not to Oreius, but Phillip for help. The Horse leaned his head down close to me and I seized his bridle. With effort he and Oreius hauled me upright. I leaned against the Horse's neck for a few moments, then pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks since I could barely talk. He walked a few paces with me until I let go and he let me take the last few steps on my own.

I didn't remember falling, just sudden, jarring agony in my shins and knees and ribs as I crashed down. That was all. I had nothing left to give. I felt tears in my eyes and my aching throat was painfully tight. Sweat poured down my back, my face, and I was so terribly cold that I wasn't certain I could ever be warm again. I looked up in absolute misery, but Aslan had come to me. He looked first to Phillip and kissed the Horse on the forehead. Then he bent his head close to me, tears in his eyes as he rubbed his velvety muzzle against my face. He spoke in a whisper so deep and resonant it shook the very earth.

_"Well done."_

I leaned heavily against him, unable to lift my arms to hug him as he helped me to sit up. "I brought you the apple," I croaked. With my left hand I dug into the small satchel slung over my shoulder and carefully pulled out the silvery apple I had traveled to the ends of the world to find. Glowing and perfect still, it was beautiful in a way wholly different from Narnia and Aslan. I held it out to him in my grubby hands, trembling with the effort.

He still spoke softly, but I knew everyone there could hear him. "High King Peter, beloved Son of Adam, you have suffered and fought and sacrificed all for this moment. None but you shall plant this tree."

I looked up at him, too weak and miserable to say more than, "Aslan, I can't stand."

"Then plant it where you lay."

I stared at the ground, set the apple down, then fumbled for the knife Edmund had given me. I tried, but I could not dig. The ground was too hard and I was too weak. I dropped the knife, unable to halt the tears that had threaten to fall since I had set eyes on Aslan. I never found a word to describe what I felt at that moment. Pathetic. Frustrated. Destroyed. Triumphant. Magnificent. I was so exhausted and sick I couldn't remember how to feel happy or relieved any more.

A moment later a huge golden paw scooped out a hole in one swipe. I let out my breath, almost laughing at the simplicity of Aslan's solution. I held up the apple and Aslan breathed on it and me, stirring up my long hair. Then I set the apple in the hole and he buried it. I stared at the little pile of dirt with blurred vision, amazed that this was the end, when a large drop fell upon it, turning the soil dark, then another and another. I raised my head.

Aslan was looking upon me and weeping. There was joy and understanding and love in his expression and I knew it was because not only had we again triumphed over Jadis, but that I had succeeded and Edmund was free. I swallowed, realizing I was crying as well.

"It was well planted. Now you must rest and heal, my child."

I did so, laying my head against his, forgetting my subjects gathered round, forgetting my aches, forgetting everything but the love and joy in his face as he looked upon me and called me his.


	40. Chapter ThirtyNine: Edmund

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Edmund**

_Edmund perched on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees as he sat between his two sisters. His head was bent and he stared at the floor, waiting for midnight, for Jadis to strike him down from beyond the grave again. His tunic lay folded on a chair, leaving him half naked and exposed. He was as thin as he was frail. On the table beside the bed was a bowl of steaming water and a pile of towels in anticipation of double wounds. The horror of anticipation, of preparing to be stabbed, of being helpless before such evil, struck me again, as did the fortitude of my three siblings as they sat alone._

_I wanted to weep in my dream. He was still alive. Lucy was still alive. If my nightmare about the storm had been as real as it seemed, then Aslan had reached them in time. The trio remained silent, both sisters holding their brother's hands. Time passed and Edmund tensed, waiting._

_And waiting._

_And..._

_He looked up, a frown creasing his face. _

_"Isn't it midnight?" he asked in a whisper._

_The girls were equally confused. I watched them exchange odd looks, then Edmund stood. "Silvo! What time is it?"_

_The Faun hurried in. "'Tis . . . a full five minutes past midnight, King Edmund."_

_"You're certain?"_

_"Yes, Majesty."_

_Edmund stared at him. For a moment he stood there with an expression of absolute wonder on his face. He turned to Susan and Lucy. I could see him trembling as he touched the scar on his chest. The girls reached across to each other, holding hands, their faces alight with the same awe._

_"He's back," breathed Edmund. "Susan! Lucy! Peter's back! He's back! He's brought the apple! He's home!"_

_Lucy squealed and leaped into his arms. Susan gave a shout and embraced them both. Edmund, fighting a smile and looking as triumphant as he had at Beruna, as the day I knighted him, let out a shout._

_"Martil! Martil!"_

_"Sire?" the Faun valets were close to a state of mild panic, their typical reaction to anything outside of their normal routine._

_"Pack me some clothes. Get word to the stables," he ordered, eyes blazing, "and have my horses saddled and ready. I'm setting out immediately. Alert the Royal Guard and have Bats sent to bring word to Aslan!" _

_The valets were positively scandalized. "King Edmund, it's midnight!" Silvo finally wailed._

_"I know," he finally smiled, that smart, knowing smirk I loved so well, "and I'm going to join my brother."_

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I don't know how long I slept, but I was told it was several days. I remembered Aslan sitting with me and Oreius, as well as a flustered Dwarf healer getting me to drink some truly awful-tasting concoctions. My sense of time was gone, swallowed up in a haze of pain and fever.

I awoke in my hammock in my pavilion with a very large, fuzzy, black Bat hanging upside down over my head, peering at me and rustling his wings impatiently. I stared up at him speechlessly, wondering what on earth he was doing in my tent and how I had ended up here myself.

"King Peter?"

His voice seemed to penetrate my ears, proof positive that he was no fever dream. Bats have voices that are best described as intensely high-pitched and it made my head ache. I liked them more when they just carried their messages.

"Yes?" I mumbled.

"I bring word from your brother."

Few other things could have excited me enough to try to sit up. I say try. I got nowhere with my efforts. My voice was hoarse and my throat was sore as I asked, "What word, good Bat?"

"King Edmund sends his greetings and his love and a single command."

I waited, but the courier said nothing and I finally wondered, "That being?"

"Eat."

I blinked. How very Edmund of Edmund.

"Your royal brother has vowed to eat and drink only as much as you. He said that unless you want him to starve right along with you, you will eat. He will be here on the morrow."

That was all. The Bat bowed from where he hung off one of the tent ropes (curling upwards, which for him was bending over) and launched himself through a narrow slit where the entrance flaps were parted. I was glad he hadn't offered me any bugs, which many of the Bats at Cair Paravel were prone to do as a sign of hospitality, for Bats are remarkably polite Animals. And no, I won't say if I ever refused that hospitality or not.

I leaned back into the pillows. Eat. Typical Edmund. I could read so much into what hadn't been said. He was better, much better.

And I knew I was much, much worse if couriers had already reached Cair Paravel and back. I sighed. It really wasn't fair of me not to try, not after coming so far. I had made Edmund promise not to give up. Fine example I'd set if I couldn't do the same.

He'd be here tomorrow. I was so very glad as I drifted off to sleep again.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I don't know how much time passed before I awoke again, but it was to the sound of Dogs barking and talking and calling out greetings. Lots of Dogs, and of many sizes, too, judging by the range of their voices. I listened in confusion, wondering what all the noise was about, when a familiar, dear, and welcome voice rang out.

"Will you be quiet?" shouted Edmund at the yapping canines. Immediately there was silence save for a whimper or two.

"Majesty," said and aghast voice, "you'll waken your brother!"

"He's awake!" insisted Edmund, and I could practically feel the electricity in the air as he must have been glaring at the Dogs. "Not even Peter could sleep through that racket you've been making since we left Beruna and I command you _stop following me every time I go for a ride!"_

I dropped my pounding head back into the pillows with a quiet laugh that hurt my ribs. The Dogs! The Dogs Phillip had set to follow Marsk and Jett. It seems as if their ranks had swelled and Edmund was at the end of his tolerance. I was so happy to hear him that I didn't care how cross he was.

"Ho! Felern!" he now hollered for the Dwarf healer. "How fares my brother?" I couldn't hear the answer, but I knew Edmund deliberately made sure I heard him. "What? I think not! Fetch twice however much food you want in him right now and_ I_ will take care of it."

A moment later he threw open the tent flaps and strode into the pavilion we always shared with a blast of cold air. He was shadowed by the wane winter sunlight pouring in behind him, but I though he was quite the most wonderful thing I had seen since Aslan, scowl and all. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me.

He was a little taller and far thinner than when I'd last seen him. His face was pale from stress and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Still, there was that usual smoldering fire within him and I knew his anxiety over the curse had shifted fully to frantic worry over his idiotic older brother that couldn't bring himself to eat.

For a long moment he just stared at me, taking in my deplorable condition and the health I had so blithely destroyed for his sake. I couldn't bear it any longer and I smiled, and that one gesture completely undid Edmund. He rushed to my side and snatched me up in a powerful hug, wary of my broken arm. I leaned heavily against him, the cold wintry air still clinging to his cloak and cooling my fever. A small sound escaped him, a gasping wail of love and happiness and grief. I tried to return the hold with indifferent success, and the effort exhausted me. I felt trembling, but I wasn't sure which of us it was. Both, perhaps.

"Peter," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Oh, Peter."

That was all, but it was all that I needed. His presence was enough to restore me. Now I knew the quest had been successful because he came here without Lucy. All he did was hold me, his head bent close to mine, foregoing anything as unnecessary as words. We stayed like that a long time, until the tent flaps parted again and Felern entered with a tray of steaming food. Edmund reluctantly drew away, holding me at arms' length to get a good look at me. He frowned and I thought it was because of the amount of weight I had lost, but then his expression turned to one of disgust and I realized he had noticed my hair was tied back.

"_You_ need a haircut. Leave the long hair to Susan."

I smiled. "It's the very first thing I plan on doing once we get home," I promised.

"Good." He turned to the harassed Dwarf healer and pulled a small table over to my bedside. "Set it here, please. Thank you." He gave me a steely look as Felern left us. "Breakfast, Peter."

"What time is it?"

"It doesn't matter. You haven't eaten yet today, so it's breakfast. Are you going to eat it or am I going to feed it to you?"

"I'm not hungry, Ed," I said with a sigh. He rolled his eyes.

"You? Peter Michael George Pevensie, not hungry? I'd sooner believe you don't feel like breathing, brother. Your problem is it's been so long since you had a decent meal your body's forgotten how to ask for one. I meant what I said by courier. I haven't eaten today either and _I'm_ hungry. I suggest you start now, because if you think I'm being a pest, wait until Susan gets here! _If she ever finished packing_," he added under his breath.

He had an excellent point. I sighed again and he handed me a bowl of thick soup. I ate slowly with my left hand and he matched me mouthful for mouthful. There was bread with it such as I had longed for, and he forced a thick slice on me. It was delicious, soft and fragrant and buttery. I was surprised when I finished all the soup, but he smiled at me, pleased, and took the bowl away.

"Do you want to sleep?" he asked.

I nodded wearily and he helped me to get comfortable. "I have to go see Aslan," he told me as he smoothed the covers. "I came right to you. Then I have to check on Phillip. Oreius said he was a wise choice."

"He was," I whispered. "Very wise. He saved my life."

Edmund smiled a rare, unguarded smile of absolute satisfaction. "I'll be back later," he promised as I drifted off.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I awoke to darkness and a cool hand on my cheek. Everything was burning and sweaty and I turned into the cool hand desperately.

"It's all right, Peter," said Edmund. "Your fever just came back."

_With a vengeance, _I heard his tone convey.

"Sit up. I need you to drink this tea."

I did my best to obey and managed to sit up partially. He held a cup of tea to my lips and the first mouthful made me gag it tasted so foul.

"I know," he soothed as I pulled a variety of faces. "It's awful stuff. That's how you can tell it will work. Drink it, Peter. I won't go away until you finish it."

Such a pest. To shut him up I drank the whole mess, choking it down. By the time I laid back down I was chilled and shivering. He wiped the sweat off my face with a damp cloth, then carefully elevated my broken arm again by placing it on a pillow.

"Send for Bathelstane," I heard him order. When I opened my eyes minutes later, he held is arm up as if for a hawk, only now a Bat hung down under his forearm as he gave it a message. "Tell my sisters the queens to move as quickly as possible. Peter needs Lucy's cordial. Hurry!"

The Bat bowed and flew off. Edmund turned and was surprised to see me awake.

"That bad am I?" I rasped.

"As a matter of fact, yes," he answered. "Only _you_ would get dehydrated with a whole river full of water right next to you." He smiled and sat next to me. "The tree has an apple on it."

_Tree?_ It had grown already? It had _flowered_ already? I don't know what I expected to happen when I planted the apple, but I certainly didn't expect such swift results. But then, Aslan had breathed upon it. Perhaps that stirred the life within the apple. After all, he had brought stone back to life the same way.

"Good," I rasped.

He was serious now. "I want you to eat it."

"What? No!"

He held up his hand. "It can restore you. Aslan said the apples have healing powers. I can wait."

"So can I," I replied as sternly as I could manage. "Ed, that's for you and no one else. Who knows when it will bloom again? The cordial can restore me, but nothing but the apple can remove Jadis' blood from your system. You eat it."

We stared at each other, both of us stubborn beyond measure, but I had the advantage of having been responsible for him far longer than he had felt any responsibility towards me. I won our silent battle. Edmund glowered, but moved from the folding stool to my hammock.

"You're an idiot," he whispered, and kissed my temple.

"Lucky for you," I replied, then curled up around him and went back to sleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I awoke feeling a thousand times better. The pain was gone from my arm, every ache had been banished, and I was so hungry I was positively ravenous. I had no notion of the hour, the past few days having been little better than a blur. I sat up. The splint had been removed and I flexed my arm experimentally. I had been completely healed. Every bruise and cut and crack and scrape had been erased. My head wasn't pounding, my back and legs no longer cramped and ached. That could only mean the girls had arrived last night and Lucy had administered her marvelous cordial. I grinned into the darkness, anxious to see them. Edmund was in his own bed, soundly sleeping, and I rose and tucked the blankets around him again. I dressed in several layers of clothes and Edmund's cape since I couldn't locate another one and stepped outside.

It was just before dawn, frost glistening off every surface. Now that I was safe and secure I could appreciate its beauty, not look at the ice with apprehension. Back in Narnia, Nature was no longer my enemy.

I turned as footsteps approached. Oreius came around the corner of the pavilion and stopped, staring at me with open satisfaction and pride. I smiled and hurried over to greet him.

"Majesty," he said, bowing in the Centaur fashion. He barely straightened before I threw my arms around his middle in a firm hug that surprised and pleased him even as he grunted at the impact. He returned the hug, then held me at arms' length, his eyes aglow with relief and delight as he studied me keenly. "You look better. Far, far better!"

I snorted and laughed. "I don't look dead and delirious, you mean!" I displayed my newly healed arm. "The girls are here?"

"Your sisters the queens arrived late last night."

I nodded, still gazing up at him. "Oreius?"

"Yes, King Peter?"

Covering his big hand with my own, I said, "Thank you. Thank you for everything. You saved me and you kept Narnia safe. I cannot thank you enough."

"To see you safely home and to see your brother restored is thanks enough, good king. From what Phillip says your training stood you in good stead."

"You would have been proud most of the time."

"Most?" he teased seriously, frowning, and I laughed.

"PETER!"

Lucy. Her ecstatic shout probably roused the whole camp. I whirled as she ran across from her tent and she threw herself at me with so much force I would have tumbled over but for Oreius catching us. I laughed and cried and crushed her to me. A moment later Susan, still in her sleeping gown and slippers with a cloak hastily thrown over her shoulders piled on with an ecstatic shout, hugging me tightly. I never wanted to let them go. Both girls were talking and tears streaked their faces and I thought they were the loveliest things I had ever seen.

I heard a growl behind me. Turning, I saw Edmund standing under the canopy of our tent, wrapped in a blanket and looking cross and mussed. He was quite possibly the furthest thing from smiles and sunshine in the mornings. He didn't just wake up badly, he woke up positively murderous most of the time. And I shared a room with him on purpose. What did that say about me?

"The sun's not even up!" he complained. "Why are you? Why am I?" he added, more to himself than to us.

Susan's eyes grew wide and Lucy's mouth dropped open in a perfect 'O.' Clearly it had been a long while since Edmund's true morning colors had come shining through

The rest of us exchanged wide grins and without a word we all rushed over and tackled him.


	41. Chapter Forty: Heyden

**Chapter Forty: Heyden**

Susan had very thoughtfully brought me clothes of all types out of my closet and under Edmund's watchful glare I piled on more of them. Even I was alarmed to see how frightfully thin I was, and though in most cases the length of the sleeves and leggings were too short, everything still fit over this scrawny frame of mine. After weeks of wearing filthy, damp, mud- and blood-encrusted clothes, soft cloth against my skin was like unto paradise. I couldn't find my boots so I wore a pair of the lace-up shoes we used in summer. (Later that night Edmund casually tossed my poor, worn-out boots into the camp's bonfire and I derived great pleasure out of watching them burn.)

After a breakfast where I ate everything in range, we joined Aslan by the apple tree. Less than a week old, it was already taller than I was. It had the same straight trunk I had seen on the tree in the Garden and silvery, pale leaves despite the fact that it was almost winter. Aslan had already appointed several dozen Dryads to nurture and protect it even as it would protect Narnia. It was such a pretty thing that I was suddenly struck by King Frank's desire to be a gardener in order to have a hand in something so beautiful. I had done this. I had brought this wonderful thing to Narnia, and it was all for...

"King Edmund the Just," said Aslan as everyone in the camp looked on. "It is for you to take the final steps of this journey. Pluck the apple from the tree and rid yourself of Jadis' corruption."

Edmund bowed deeply to Aslan, then pursed his lips and stepped over to the tree. For a moment he studied the little plant, the blue and green leaves, the silver bark, the one small apple it had produced. Like its mother fruit, the apple shone with silvery light even when he picked it. He was self-conscious enough to cast me and the girls a quirky little smile, then bit into the apple.

When he swallowed the first mouthful, he gasped. We all started forward, but he shook his head and took another bite. Before my very eyes my brother was transformed. Only someone that knew him as well I could have seen it. With each bite the anger and hurt and guilt that had consumed him for so long seemed to lessen and fade until the young man that had struggled so hard with what was right and wrong and his own self-loathing was replaced by my generous, witty, and loving little brother. This was the Edmund from before Narnia, before the war and Father leaving, before being sent to that awful school that poisoned his spirit so.

This Edmund could forgive himself.

He stood beside the tree and didn't move, feeling the magic work on him. His eyes closed and I knew that for a long moment he was overwhelmed by the uncontrollable rush of emotion and relief as the darkness within him was banished. Finally he opened his eyes and...he smiled. And I saw in those dark eyes the little boy I knew and loved so well and the great man and king he would someday become. I was undone, and true to form I felt tears in my eyes. This was the moment I had lived for since the Anniversary of Beruna.

At a nod from Aslan, he handed the core to one of the eager Dryads. I knew they would plant it and nurture it as avidly as the Tree of Protection. Edmund watched the reverence the Birch showed as she carried it, and the other Dryads were positively aglow with excitement. They crowded around to see it as she broke it in half, exposing two brown seeds. It was as if they were looking at a new baby, which for them I suppose they were. My brother smiled faintly, then looked to us, his dark eyes speaking of awe and love and relief.

With excited cries Susan and Lucy rushed forward to hug him but I stood my ground, just watching. Edmund endured their caresses for a few moments, then extracted himself. He cast Aslan a warm smile and stepped over to me, looking up at me with a faint smirk on his lips.

"Oh, go ahead and cry, Peter," he said. "Get it out of your system!"

But I laughed instead.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

There was quite a bit of shuffling around as we prepared to head home later that same day. Edmund politely refused Phillip's offer to carry him, insisting that the good Horse needed a rest from carrying anything heavier than a blanket. That Phillip didn't argue very hard was evidence of his lingering fatigue, though he had been restored to health by a drop of the cordial and could move his tail again. I would have mounted my black mare, Jett, but Edmund swung into her saddle before I could and gave me a stern look.

"Oreius! Oreius! General, please make sure my brother does _not_ ride any horse except Marsk no matter what he says, commands, or whines."

The Centaur cast me a dark look at the mere mention that I'd entertain the thought, and nodded to Edmund. I glared at both conspirators in aggravation. I did not like to be baby sat, but it seemed as if everyone here was against me, even my sisters. Instead of coming to my defense, they just nodded in agreement and echoed Oreius' glare. In truth, Jett was probably more than I could handle right now and Marsk, older and slower, barely needed guidance. I climbed defiantly into his saddle and waited for the others. Finally Aslan took a spot beside me and we started. I immediately called,

"Oi! Phillip!"

The Horse looked at me expectantly. I grinned, then chanted,

"_Heeeey-den! Heyden ho and!" _

"Oh, no!" Edmund rolled his eyes, clearly familiar with equine song.

_"Foal of the mighty stallion Shaze!"_ I sang with Phillip.

"Oh!" exclaimed Lucy. "Oh, I can play that! Wait for me! Wait for me! Don't go yet!" she cried as if we would ever ride off and leave her. She slid off her palfrey and hurried over to Celer, who grinned as he handed her something from a pouch at his waist. Clambering back onto the horse, she held up her prize: a pan pipe. "Now sing!" she commanded, smiling broadly before putting the pipe to her lips expectantly.

I laughed, grinning at Edmund as I began anew.

"_Heeeey-den! Heyden ho and / Foal of the mighty stallion Shaze!"_

My brother groaned. "Phillip!" he whined, convinced the Horse had corrupted me.

"_Race from the river to the ocean's waves!"_

Phillip joined in, then Oreius's deep voice picked up the song along with all the soldiers that knew the words

"_Storm in the valley, winds off to sea!"_

Susan didn't know the words, but she caught the beat and began to sing a harmony along with us. Aslan purred with pleasure as Lucy managed to play the handful of notes, not necessarily on the beat, and then even he joined in.

"_Strike of lightning at the meadow's lea and_

_Heyden ho! Heyden ho and!_"

I stopped in surprise. We had been joined by a clear voice that sounded as sweet as Susan's. I looked at Edmund in astonishment, for it was he. He smirked and shrugged.

"Just because I don't like to sing doesn't mean I can't. It's like dancing."

I laughed and picked up the song again. And so we headed home, escorted by Aslan and the army and our loving subjects.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

It took four days to make it back to the palace. Each night at dinner we sat around a huge fire singing more songs and telling tales (and, that first night, watching my missing boots burn). Backed up by Phillip, I related some of our adventures. The Slinn disgusted them, Rhye thrilled them, the Krakens astonished them, and Aslan smiled when I conveyed Tempus' greetings. Aslan knew of the Seelie and approved an alliance with the tiny fairies. There was so much to tell I barely brushed the surface of all we had seen and done and I made it a point to thank my siblings again for their invaluable gifts. I couldn't stay awake long, though I was just as interested to find out what had gone on at Cair Paravel during my absence. They regaled me with stories of the Galman nautical tutor (a very capable noble dame) and their classes in navigation and tentative plans for a deep-water port not far from Cair Paravel. It seemed our navy was to be a reality with the help of the Galmans, who were eager both for trade and for Narnia's protection from marauders from the south. I probed carefully, and found all the dreams I'd had of them in the Western Wild had been absolutely accurate. I looked to Aslan for clarification, but he merely smiled. As he escorted me and Edmund to our tent one night, I turned to the Lion.

"Will you stay at Cair Paravel, Aslan?" I pressed.

He looked at me with love and understanding. "For a little while longer, Peter. I have tarried long in Narnia."

"I was hoping you'd stay."

"I have always been, and always will be with you," he reminded.

"I know. I was just being selfish."

Edmund snorted and judging by Aslan's expression he agreed with my brother's sentiment.

"You? Selfish?" exclaimed Edmund. "When? I want to see it."

Aslan chuckled and said, "I will see you safely back to where you started this quest. Fear not, High King. You'll see me soon."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

We arrived at the Cair just after night fall. A few miles from the palace we decided to press on rather than make another camp because the temperature had plummeted and we all dearly wanted to sleep indoors. To my embarrassment, I fell asleep in the saddle and woke up only as Oreius was carrying me into the bedroom Edmund and I shared. The Centaur chuckled as he set me on my feet to be greeted by the ecstatic valets. I let Silvo fuss to his heart's content and took the longest, hottest bath of my life. Afterwards, as we waited for a meal to be sent up, I asked the Faun to cut my hair. Susan let out a little whine - I was surprised that she should like long hair on a man, especially me - and she kept some of the shorn locks. It was a relief to be rid of so much hair but suddenly it was also very drafty on my neck. I hadn't noticed that until my hair was gone. It was worth having a cold neck, I decided.

Aslan joined us for our supper and I began telling the story of our adventure in better order than while we had been encamped. I didn't get very far - not even to Lasa, whose memory still roused all my guilty instincts - but I did skip ahead and tell them about shooting and eating the crow. My dear siblings did not disappoint me with their delighted and sarcastic comments and puns and I could see Edmund's mind would be working this for days, perhaps even weeks. I looked forward to every biting comment. It wasn't long before I was drooping with exhaustion and Aslan laughingly sent me to bed. My bed. In my room. Being tucked in by Susan was the most wonderful sensation in the world. It was so strange to be out of the wind, away from the constant sound of the river, that the unfamiliar quiet kept me awake.

Edmund followed me not much later. I stirred when he entered. The moon cast the room into faint shadow.

"Ed?"

He leaned against my bed, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at me. "Sorry to wake you."

"No," I mumbled, then asked hopefully, "Are you cold?"

I caught a flash of white teeth as his smile turned into a grin. "I could be if you'd like."

"I'd like," I yawned.

"Shove over, Peter, I'm freezing."

I made room for him and he climbed into the bed with me. He actually was rather cold. He settled in close, glad of the invitation. I knew if I hadn't asked he would have found his way over here anyway, or I would have gone to his bed.

"Peter?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

I smiled and drew him closer for a hug, kissing his dark hair. "I'd do it again."

"Yes, I was afraid you'd say something like that."


	42. Chapter FortyOne: Tuesday's Child

**Chapter Forty-One: Tuesday's Child**

I awoke the next morning to a tiny, chirruping sound right in my ear. I opened my eyes and saw a Hummingbird hovering over my head. I smiled at it and whispered, "Good morn," in true Narnian fashion. Moving carefully so as not to disturb my sleeping brother, I sat up, holding out my hand. The little Bird landed and I brought it close to my ear.

"Aslan asks you to join him in the seaside pavilion."

"Thank you," I whispered and it flew off. I rose and tucked Edmund in, then quickly dressed in the darkened room. My clothes were all too loose on me now, but I piled on several layers and wrapped a heavy cloak over my shoulders before slipping out the door. The lamps were still lit in the corridor as dawn was an hour or more away. The guards on duty turned to face me, but I gestured for silence and softly instructed,

"I'll bring one of the guards at the gate with me. If the king or queens wake up, tell them I won't be long."

The most direct route to the pavilion was out the main doors and so I hurried through the Cair to the great hall where the pillars rose like trees in a forest and acres of stained glass told Narnia's history. The guards, a Satyr and a Ram, both with the most magnificent, curling horns, bowed when they saw me and opened the door. A blast of freezing cold air off the ocean made the lamps flicker and carried the smell of salt and winter. I was immediately shadowed by a huge Tiger I recognized from Sharet's troop of big Cats.

"Good morn, Ricanus," I whispered, my teeth already chattering from the biting cold.

"It is, Majesty," he said with a bow, then said nothing and made no sound as he padded along beside me.

There was a faint golden glow like candlelight about the pavilion as we approached. Ricanus fell back and left me to walk the last hundred feet alone. Aslan waited for me, seated before the open wall that looked out over the Eastern Sea. There was still no hint of dawn in the sky and the whole structure was coated with a thick layer of ice. The Lion greeted me warmly and I returned his embrace. Then I pulled back, gazing up at him. He seemed large enough to fill the pavilion.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" I whispered, suddenly stricken.

His eyes were gentle and he knew I was disappointed. "I have a task to complete now that your brother is safe."

_But I've hardly seen you!_ my thoughts wailed, then I realized what he meant. "The wand."

"The wand," he echoed. "I must remove it to a place where it will be well guarded. There is an island far, far across the Eastern Sea where the Birds of the Dawn gather every morning to greet the day. There it will be well out of mischief's way and ages will pass before anyone visits the island again."

"Good," I said.

"Do not tell anyone where the wand has been removed to. If they ask, just tell them it is safe."

"I will.," I promised, suddenly relieved that we were here alone. Aslan usually slipped away without fanfare, and I was glad for the chance to see him and say goodbye. If I knew Narnia and Narnians, today there would be celebrating and festivities for our return and I would have to tell the story of the quest time and time again. It was very nice to have the Lion to myself for a few moments and I stepped closer to his side. I think he felt the same about me, and we stood in grateful, comfortable silence for a little while, watching the ocean.

"And here is Mallo."

A wave of water spread all the way up to the pavilion and splashed against the rocks just past the steps. Mallo appeared from the crested wave, and to my surprise she came all the way to the icy steps. The Mermaid bowed deeply, first to Aslan, then to me, unaffected by the freezing cold.

"Mighty Aslan. High King."

I bowed to the leader of the Merfolk. "Greetings, Mallo. It's good to see you again, lady."

"And you, King Peter. News of your success gives up joy." From the water at her long tail she lifted a long, flat box made of coral, which she laid at Aslan's paws. "The White Witch's wand."

"Thank you, Mallo, for guarding this. It was very well done of you and your people," said the Lion. He leaned over and kissed her. She bowed deeply again, and the next wave swept up and she was gone.

Aslan sighed. I knew the moment of parting had come. I wanted to prolong it. "Aslan?"

"Yes, my child?"

I hesitated, knowing I wouldn't be able to convey adequately what I was feeling. "I...how...how...can I thank you?" _For Edmund? For Narnia? For the life I now lived? For the love with which you've blessed me?_ My voice came out as a whisper barely audible over the turf. My eyes were brimming with tears but I made no attempt to stop them.

"Oh, Peter," Aslan said so gently his words were a caress. He put a paw on my shoulder. "Do you love me?"

I sniffed and nodded. My voice cracked as I whispered, "Completely."

"What greater thanks, what nobler gift could I ask, High King, than to have the absolute love of one such as you?" he asked, then gathered me close and kissed me on the forehead. He was warm and his mane smelled sweet and his paw was warm upon my back. Strength seemed to fill me as I wrapped my arms around him as far as I could. "You are more worthy than you will ever know, Peter Pevensie. Learn and grow, dearest child and highest king, and keep in your heart all the things you love best. It is no mistake that you are called the Magnificent and your grace is Narnia's greatest blessing."

His words were familiar and I recalled the day I had resolved to set forth on the quest. I smiled, blinking at my tears, his confidence and love warming me even as I drew away. Together we turned and looked to the east and I stepped over to lean against one of the pillars. The sky over the ocean was lightening with the pale colors of a winter dawn. Aravir stood brilliant above the horizon, still blazing bright even as the stars faded around her. The ocean spray was icy cold against my face and I breathed deeply, closing my eyes for a moment and filling my lungs with Narnia's fragrant air. I thought about rousing Edmund and heading down to the training grounds. It would feel good to have armor on again, to get back to training, back to my life...

When I looked behind me, both the mighty golden Lion and the wand were gone.

I smiled, but did not despair. Aslan would return and I was home.


	43. Epilogue: In the Company of Horses

Two months to the day and my story is done. I would like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and review this story. Your feedback and assistance has helped to improve it and has kept my own enthusiasm going. Thank you, thank you, ten thousand times, thank you!

**Epilogue: In the Company of Horses**

Looking back, the thing I remember most vividly was how happy we all were.

It was the second anniversary of the Battle of Beruna and once again all of Narnia was celebrating. After the spring we had, we deserved to indulge. The embassies from the islands were more numerous than last year and the Calormen ambassador was even more magnificent in his dress and gifts. The Seelie ambassador, Tition's uncle, had been here early in the summer and promised to attend next year's festivities with more of the Seelie Court. Once again King Lune was absent, but this time it was because his wife was well along with child and he did not want to leave her. Instead of his mother-in-law, Princess Eo, whom I was sure could not have been pried away from Anvard for anything, he sent his younger brother, Prince Lunell, who was even merrier and fonder of hunting than Lune. He was good, jovial company and particularly attached to the Big Cats, Sharet and Bal being almost constant companions. It was a sure guarantee that when they were together they were talking about stalking game.

The music and feasting and dancing had been moved indoors to the entrance hall of Cair Paravel when the weather turned foul and it began teeming rain. It made little difference. The hall had already been decorated and there was plenty of room and light and the Fauns and Satyrs and Nymphs seemed to enjoy the challenge of dancing on stairs. The singers and musicians, including the Dwarfs and their mighty war drums, had set up in the center of the hall and the dances formed a wide oval around them. The drums were so deep the beats seemed to penetrate the very being of the revelers, making everyone want to get up and join in the dance.

I glanced up at a balcony above where Lucy was leaning far over the railing to hold a conversation with a gracious Giraffe lady named Avalynn, who was our etiquette instructor. The Giraffe stood on the main floor as they talked, her long neck and legs ringed by many chokers and necklaces and, I think, some of Lucy's belts borrowed for the occasion. They were a very pretty sight, each so graceful and sweet in her own way. Lucy wore a beautifully woven band of sweet herbs and wild flowers in her hair, for the Fauns and Satyrs had crowned us again. Susan had herbs and flowers as well, whereas Edmund and I wore great crowns of green wheat and grass. They were sweetly fragrant and made us both sneeze.

I had spent an hour with Edmund's friends the Black Dwarfs of the Blue River Smithy, telling them in great detail how the knife they had helped Edmund make me had ended a war. They were smug and pleased, as much with their favorite king as with themselves and their craft, and they asked me endless questions about the knife and how it behaved (as they termed it) and how I found its balance and grip and what other uses I had found for it on the quest. They would have gone on all night if Edmund hadn't arrived to save me, promising them they could harangue me more tomorrow.

"They can't get over their own work," he explained, dragging me away.

I sat with Edmund on the main stairs. Four chairs had been set up for us, covered with cushions and furs to make soft seats, but we ended up on the foot rests leaning back against the chairs with our legs stretched out to the step below. Edmund's legs were almost as long as mine now, and he had the annoying habit of dressing out of my closet since the Nymph tailors couldn't keep up with his growth spurts. I was fairly certain I recognized my boots on his feet. We both held mazers, though I made it a point to water the wine down so that the dancers, not the room, was what spun. Our friends and advisors and teachers and guests were all present and milling about. It was all so informal and familiar that I think the Calormene ambassador was a little scandalized until Lunell got some Archenland wine into him. Dog Sir Giles Fox was there with his new wife, Vixen Lady Marion Fox (as foxly titles went), the Beavers, Tumnus, an entire balcony filled with raucous Gryphons lead by Cyn, Cheroom, and even Neth, only son of the River God Callum, had shown up with about fifty of his beautiful sisters.

Once again the Talking Mice performed for us, this time lining up on one of the wide marble railings. Mice are valiant and brave Animals, but they are not designed to dance and sing. I don't know how I survived this year, because despite all the work they had put into their little show, a chorus line of Mice was one of the single funniest things I had ever witnessed and I blamed the tears on the crown of grass and wheat. I think Edmund just kept his eyes closed through the whole thing. I would have to remember that for the future, though we were both suddenly subject to coughing fits as the performance came to its shrill climax.

"How many Horses are here?" I exclaimed a little while later, for there seemed to be an unusual number of them crowding the hall. They were gorgeously decked in wreaths and ribbons and all the finery and frippery their of which breed seemed so very fond.

Edmund shrugged. "More than last year?" he suggested innocently.

I rolled my eyes. "Brilliant observation, Ed."

He snorted. "To a brilliant question."

"Aren't those my boots?"

He was saved from answering. Suddenly the drummers burst into a long, loud roll announcing the start of a new dance. Ed and I scrambled to our feet as everyone cleared the floor, swarming up the steps and onto the railings and perches as a troop of Centaurs, both male and female, galloped into the hall. They faced each other in two long rows as the drums sent out a fast, pounding rhythm, unaccompanied by any other instruments, the Centaurs began to dance.

I had never seen or imagined the like. They were graceful creatures and they moved their hooves in steps so complex as to be amazing, their timing so exact that at times it sounded like only one Centaur, not twenty. They clapped a counter-rhythm with their hands, somehow keeping the beat going. It was very much like Morris Dancing, only instead of bells and sticks they had their hooves to punctuate the rhythm. At times the drums stopped so we could hear the steps and by the looks of the Narnians all around us this was truly a rare treat to see. I had never seen its like and I was lost just watching them. The Fauns and Nymphs and Satyrs, dancers and revelers all, were watching and smiling and gasping in awe as the tempo picked up and the dance became wilder. The Centaurs circled about and swung their partners, rearing and stamping all in perfect time. It was the most remarkable performance I had ever seen, and that included last winter's Great Snow Dance.

The drums roared in a mighty crescendo and the dance ended in a frenzy of precision. Everything stopped at once, Centaurs and drums, lined up exactly as they had started, and for a moment there was absolute silence in the great hall. Then we erupted in cheers, screaming and clapping and shouting out our appreciation. The drums and music started up again and the Centaurs began another dance, simpler and merrier and the Narnians streamed down the steps to join in. I spotted Susan opposite a female Centaur, trying to learn the steps. The Centaur was smiling and slowing down so Susan could follow. I nudged Edmund, pointing her out and he grinned as he watched.

"Oh, Su!" he admonished in disgust when she stepped the wrong way. "That's not how it's done! Here!"

He thrust his mazer into my hands and rushed down the stairs. Dodging through the dancers, he slid to a halt behind Susan, grabbing her around the waist to stop his momentum and, holding her at arm's length, he began to dance right along with them, acting as the back feet. Susan was still taller than he and he leaned this way and that to see around her, catching his crown of wheat whenever he leaned too far. I laughed so hard I fell back into my seat, and I could see the delight on the faces of Susan and the Centaur as the whole hall exploded with mirth.

"Peter! Peter, come dance with us!" begged Lucy, running up the steps. She seized both of my hands and I let her pull me onto the floor close by where Susan and Edmund picked their way through the dance. Her waiting partner, of all people, was Oreius.

"I'm dancing with the general," she belatedly explained, reaching up to take his hands and casting me her most charming smile.

I burst out laughing, grabbing her waist. "I suppose I am, too!"

For the first time since I had met him I heard Oreius laugh long and loud as he began to dance with my sister. He kept the steps simple and she followed him with bouncing enthusiasm while I hung on and provided the back-up feet for her. It was great fun and very, very amusing, especially when we got hang of what we were doing and could actually keep in step. Oreius could dance quite well, and he was heartily entertained at having both queen _and_ king as his partners. When the dance ended I stood with my siblings by the musicians in the middle of the floor, still laughing at Oreius' expression.

A Bat, tiny and brown, came flapping up to Edmund and landed on his arm. They were his particular messengers, just as Susan used Hummingbirds and I used the small Cats. It crawled up to his shoulder and they had a whispered conference, then Edmund lifted the Bat off his shirt and held it high over his head so it could launch.

"Peter, we have a surprise for you!" said Edmund, giving our sisters a significant look. Instantly Susan broke into a brilliant smile and Lucy squealed with anticipation, jumping up and down in place a few times before she called, "Mr. Tumnus! Mr. Tumnus! It's time for Peter's surprise!"

I was amused by their reactions already. At Tumnus' order the main doors were flung open to the weather. A swirl of cool air swept the hall, then in stepped a vision of burnished silver and gold. I felt my heart race at the sight and fresh tears burned my eyes.

Rhye had come to Narnia.

"Peter High King!" she shrilly called across the hall, tossing her head in greeting, but I was already rushing across the floor to greet her. She seemed inordinately pleased as I threw my arms around her neck. She rested her head on my shoulder affectionately, then nudged me and nibbled at my clothes and crown. "King Peter! Where is your mane? I scarce know you!"

I laughed, hugging her harder. She was used to me with long hair, but I was also the only blond in all of Narnia at the moment and there was no mistaking me.

"Rhye! Rhye! You came! I can't believe you came! You look lovely! When did you get here?" I exclaimed. She had been groomed and brushed and braided and decked with flowers and ribbons. She was beautiful beyond words. Small wonder the hall was packed with Horses!

"I've been here two weeks! I've learned new songs! And I heard music!"

My family joined us and she greeted them with familiarity. Susan touched Rhye's soft nose and said, "Rhye arrived two weeks ago while you were down at Glasswater and we have done _everything _to keep her out of sight until now to surprise you."

"It worked! I had no idea! Su, have you gone for a ride?"

"No!" Susan exclaimed. She did not like heights at all, but I could tell by their grins that Edmund and Lucy and ridden far and fast. "It's amazing!" Edmund burst out.

Remembering my promise, I looked at Rhye's hooves and everyone, including Rhye, followed my gaze. She had not been shod, though her hooves had been filed and polished. My siblings all smiled knowingly.

"We thought we'd let you give the order," said Edmund. I was fairly certain Rhye had spoken of little else.

"Tomorrow, Rhye, just as I said, you'll have shoes of silver and gold."

"Could I have bells, too?" she asked, wide-eyed and irresistable. "I heard some on those fluffy little woolies and they sound like music."

She meant the Sheep, many of whom wore bells. Susan answered. "You'll have as many as you like."

I laughed and kissed the Winged Horse on her nose. Susan didn't know what she was getting herself into. Phillip came up just then, presuming on his close acquaintance to greet Rhye. I could see the other stallions in the hall were thoroughly jealous, as were all the mares but for different reasons. Rhye, completely unconscious of her breathtaking beauty and unaware she was the center of so much attention, immediately began barraging Phillip about our quest and if he had ever tried sugar and the customs of Narnian Horses and what was good to eat at the banquet and if he knew the same songs she did. I had a thousand questions for her, but they could wait. I let Phillip take her attention away, promising myself a long visit tomorrow, perhaps even another ride if she was willing. She moved through the crowd graceful as a swan, meeting excited courtiers and Horses and nibbling on the decorations.

"I can't believe she came!" I exclaimed, delighted.

"I can't believe we managed to keep it from you," said Edmund smugly.

"She's as wonderful as you said, Peter," Lucy added. "And she loves music! I taught her some new songs!"

"Lucy!" Edmund frowned. He wagged a finger at her. "Never burden a Horse with a song!"

"Unless she asks!" countered our youngest queen, and we all laughed. Then I grabbed Susan's hand and lead her onto the dance floor as the music started anew. Lucy dragged Edmund along before he could escape her clutches. We all ended up dancing with Niaids and getting soaked in the process since they're always dripping wet.

As midnight grew closer Edmund visibly - and understandably - grew tense. I stood beside him on the stairs as this year Susan was making the midnight toast, and we held our mazers at the ready, both of us thirsty from dancing. There was no shouting out to a rowdy crowd as I had done on the beach last year. Everyone in the hall fell silent for their gentle queen as Susan lifted her own mazer.

"Narnia, tonight we celebrate victory and freedom and the lives of our two kings," Susan called out, flashing us a smile. "Drink a toast with me now! Narnia, Aslan, and our Magnificent and Just kings who banished the White Witch from our land forever!"

The great hall erupted into cheers as we lifted our wine in salute. Beside me, Edmund snorted faintly.

"I didn't do anything," he grumbled.

"I beg to differ," I replied and drained the wooden bowl.

He snorted again and finished his wine just as Cheroom, stationed over by the water clock set up just for this purpose, let out a shout. "Midnight! To freedom!"

More celebrating, more cheering, people toasted and danced everywhere around us, but I just stood there, my eyes locked with Edmund's as we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Nothing happened.

Praise be to Aslan, nothing happened.

Then I realized it was absolutely silent. I glanced about the hall. Every eye was on my brother and me. I looked back at him and he smiled, then threw his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. I crushed him to me, tears in my eyes.

Music and cheers erupted anew and the anniversary celebration began in earnest. Edmund finally drew away, holding me a moment, his smile never fading. Lucy and Susan rushed up the steps to claim their hugs and kisses and Edmund surprised me by kissing each of them first, something I had never seen him do before. I cannot remember feeling such love and joy in all my life.

Nothing had happened.

Nothing, except we had truly defeated Jadis

FIN


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